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f lora Morris' Choice. 


The Arrival. 
Frontispiece, 


See P. 31 


FLORA MORRIS’ CHOICE; 




iy 


OR, 


“BE NOT CONFORMED TO THE WORLD. 


BY 

Mrs. MAEY J. HILDEBUEN, 

•/ 

AUTHOR OF 

"money,” "fab away,” "BESSIE LANE's MISTAKE,” ETC. 


0 

PHILADELPHIA: O 

PRESBYTERIAN PUBLICATION COMMITTEE, 

1334 CHESTNUT STREET. 

NEW YORK : A. D. F. RANDOLPH, 770 BROADWAY. 




^ s. . v«» ' 


Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by 


WM. L. HILDEBURN, Treasurer, 
in trust for the 

PRESBYTERIAN PUBLICATION COMMITTEE, 


In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court for the Eastern District of 

Pennsylvania. 




Westcott & Thomson, 
Stereotypers, Philada. 


'^-3Y/(,3 


PREFACE. 


To resist the spirit of worldliness so 
prevalent in the education of young 
ladies at the present day, to reprove the 
frivolity to which they are so often trained 
by parents and teachers, to check it in 
their lives, and to suggest a more excel- 
lent way, is the aim of Floka Mokkis’ 
Choice.” 


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I * 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTEE I. 

PAOB 

MR. AND MRS. WILLIAM MORRIS 9 

CHAPTER II. . 

THE MISSES AND MASTER MORRIS 19 

CHAPTER III. 

THE JOURNEY AND ITS END 2T 

CHAPTER IV. 

BRIGHTON— ITS CUSTOMS AND MANNERS 46 

CHAPTER V. 

MRS. GEORGE MORRIS 73 

CHAPTER VI. 

A SABBATH AT BRIGHTON 90 

1 * 


5 


6 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER VII. 

PAGB 

STILL AT BRIGHTON 117 

CHAPTER VIII. 

PIERREPONT MORRIS - 132 

CHAPTER IX. 

A BRIGHTON PIC-NIC .'T 142 

CHAPTER X. 

QUESTIONS OF CONSCIENCE 172 

CHAPTER XI. 

THE INVITATION 189 

CHAPTER XII. 

A BRIGHTON PARTY, AND SOMETHING ABOUT MR. NORTON... 206 

CHAPTER XIII. 

A RAINY DAY 224 

CHAPTER XIV. 

THE REVIVAL 235 

CHAPTER XV. 

FLORA’S LETTER, AND ITS RESULT 253. 


CONTENTS, 


7 


CHAPTEE XVI. 

PAGB " 

ONCE MORE AT HOME * 273 

CHAPTEE XVII. 

MRS. GROSVENOR RAYMOND 280 

CHAPTEE XVIII. 

MISSING 288 

$ 

CHAPTEE XIX. 

THANKSGIVING AT BRIGHTON 304 

CHAPTEE XX. 

DEVELOPMENTS 812 

CHAPTEE XXI. 

AN OLD STORY— THE RESULT OE FOLLY 316 


> 



Flora Morris’ Choice. 


CHAPTER I. 



MR. AND MRS. WILRIAM MORRIS. 

)R. MORRIS was seated in the breakfast- 
room, apparently occupied with the con- 
tents of the morning’s paper; but his 
brow was clouded and his lips compressed 
by other troubles than any that could be 
suggested by the ^'Latest news from Europe,” 
upon which his eyes now rested, and which he 
had already carefully perused and thoroughly di- 
gested upon the previous evening. Mrs. Morris’ 
hands were employed in vigorously dusting the 
mantel ornaments with a brilliantly-colored 
feather brush. Her countenance, too, bore signs 
of a mind disturbed by more important matters 
than dust upon china, annoying as this must 
always be to all good housekeepers. The lady 
was the first to break the silence : ' 


9 


10 


FLORA MORRIS’ CHOICE. 


Morris!’’ 

The short response might have been intended 
merely as an invitation for her to proceed with 
the conversation, but to the quick ear of his wife 
it implied much more than this. She understood 
the peculiar tone in which it was uttered to mean: 
‘^You have already taxed my patience to a very 
great extent, and, I perceive, intend to try it still 
further; but I am a martyr, and as such am bound 
to endure any amount of persecution.” The in- 
vitation to pursue the conversation was not very 
graciously extended, but the lady had a point to 
gain, and might lose it by waiting for a more 
favorable opportunity. 

It is utterly impossible,” she said, for us to 
remain in town all summer, and country boarding 
at a farm-house is too hateful to be thought of for 
a moment.” 

‘^Well, what do you propose?” 

The tone was quite as discouraging as ever, but 
the lady was presevering, and proceeded : 

Many of our friends are going to Europe, and 
they say it costs no more to live there than to pay 
board at fashionable watering-places at home.” 


MR. AND MRS. WILLIAM MORRIS. 


11 


I thought I had told you already, Maria, that 
I could not afford to pay the expenses of the 
family at a fashionable watering-place,’’ returned 
her husband quickly. 

“Xess, I ought to have said,” replied Mrs. 
Morris, correcting herself — ^^far less, Mrs. Mere- 
dith tells me. Why, she says that one can live 
in Italy and in many pleasant little towns in the 
German states for a mere song.” 

^^This is all nonsense, Maria,” Mr. Morris 
answered, impatiently. ^‘In the first place, the 
song you talk about is one that you, at least, do 
not know how to sing. If one chooses to live on 
maccaroni or lager beer and sausage, it may be 
done cheaply in Italy or Germany, I have no 
doubt ; and if you fancy this style of living for 
yourself, you might try it at home quite as suc- 
cessfully as abroad. Kather more so, I should say, 
when one considers the expense of crossing and 
recrossing the ocean, at the rate of three hundred 
dollars in gold for each person. But even if it 
were just as your friend estimates it, Europe is 
quite out of the question for us at present. My 
business affairs require almost constant attention. 
A protracted absence might be ruinous to us all ; 


12 


FLORA MORRIS' CHOICE. 


and I must be near enough to the city to be able 
to return at a short notice/’ 

Mrs. Morris was not endowed with any con- 
siderable amount of wisdom, but she had suffi- 
cient to appreciate this objection. Success in busi- 
ness meant to her not the necessaries of life alone, 
but also its luxuries, which were very important 
in her estimation. But Europe was not the only 
plan which shq had to propose. There was 
another — a last resource, and only adopted after 
considerable misgivings — in case of the failure of 
the first. The silence therefore was again broken 
after a few moments. 

was thinking yesterday of your brother 
George,” she said. Mr. Morris had resumed his 
paper, but now it was laid down hastily. 

^‘Well?” he responded once more; but this 
time the monosyllable conveyed a different mean- 
ing from what it had done the first time it was 
uttered. There was less of the martyr spirit 
about it, and very much more of mere human 
surprise and curiosity. 

^‘He has a pleasant farm about a hundred miles 
or so from the city,” Mrs. Morris continued, 
hesitatingly. 


MR. AND MRS. WILLIAM MORRIS. 


13 


Certainly he has/’ replied her husband; ^‘but 
you surely do not mean to accept of one of his 
many invitations at this late day, and after such 
frequent protestations against passing the season 
at a farm-house.” 

^‘No, not for myself/’ she answered, ‘^but for 
the children. I dare say your brother and his 
family would be glad to have them, and then, 
you see, this would reduce our expenses very con- 
siderably. You and I could take our summer’s 
trip at less than half the customary cost; not to 
mention the difference in the amount of trouble to 
you. So much less baggage to see after ! Then 
the girls are so apt to be slow in their movements 
that it is hard to get good seats for them in the 
crowded cars. And Willie is worse than the girls, 
if possible — frightening us out of our senses for 
fear that he may get under the locomotive, in his 
zeal to find out the name of the maker, and to see 
how this one differs from the last that he saw. 
You remember last summer how we missed him 
at Albany, and, after a search, found him on the 
down train, just as it was about starting for the 
city. Then, too, at all the different places where 
we stayed, wliat a perpetual torment he was! 


14 


FLORA MORRIS' CHOICE. 


Children are said to be much better off at some 
quiet farm-house for the summer, and I am in- 
clined to believe it. At Saratoga he made him- 
self sick drinking so many tumblers of Washing- 
ton Spring water for a wager, besides going off 
with some boys in a boat, which was nearly upset 
while we were drinking lemonade on the piazza 
of the Lake House. It was worse, if anything, 
at Newport, for there he made acquaintance with 
the hostler, and was scarcely ever out of the sta- 
bles — learning to use all sorts of improper lan- 
guage, besides running the risk of being kicked 
to death by vicious horses. Anxiety for him 
really undoes all the good effects one ought to 
obtain from such places. Last summer I actually 
returned home thinner than I was at starting. 
Boys are certainly better off at a farm-house — and 
girls, too, for that matter.’’ 

Mrs. IMorris had commenced her speech hesita- 
tingly, but, gaining courage as she proceeded, grew 
quite eloquent, and at last ended with a decision 
of manner which formed a striking contrast to the 
first feeble utterance. Her husband had listened 
to her in the beginning with doubt and surprise. 
She had always objected so strenuously to having 


MR. AND MRS. WILLIAM MORRIS. 


15 


any further intercourse with his brother’s family 
than was absolutely necessary, that he could 
scarcely believe her now to be in earnest; and, 
after the conviction forced itself upon him, he 
could still see a number of objections. Her elo- 
quent reasoning did not fail in its effect upon 
him ; and yet, after all, it required no very great 
argumentative power to convince him of the 
advantage of traveling with a smaller and less 
troublesome party. Then, too, although he was 
slow to admit it, he was quite as fond in his way 
of the excitement of fashionable resorts as his 
wife could be, and quite as averse to abandon- 
ing them, even for one season. Added to this, 
there was a better feeling at work in his heart, 
inclining him to regard the suggestion favor- 
ably — love for his only brother, and a desire 
to have the acquaintance kept up between the 
two families. But a certain sort of respect for 
first impressions required that he should make 
a faint show of opposition. 

^‘But, Maria,” he suggested, ^Mt hardly seems 
fair to turn Willie off upon others when he is so 
troublesome to us. I question whether it is right 
for a man to throw his legitimate burden upon 


16 


FLORA MORRIS* CHOICE. 


his neighbor’s shoulders because he finds it too 
heavy for his own.” 

think, my dear Mr. Morris,” replied his 
wife, ‘Hhat you scarcely understand the matter. 
There is a wide difference between a farm in the 
heart of the country and Newport or Saratoga. 
Willie might run wild all over a farm from 
morning till night without getting into the least 
mischief or danger, while he would scarcely be 
able to turn at a watering-place without harming 
himself or somebody else. Then, too, we need 
not be at the expense of new clothes for him, and 
it will not matter much about his tearing the old 
ones.” 

Still, it seems hardly fair,” demurred Mr. 
Morris, ^Ho sponge upon our friends for the 
children’s boarding all summer.” 

Why, Mr. Morris !” exclaimed his wife, 
how strangely you are reasoning this morning ! 
If I did not see you, I should think it was some 
other person who was speaking. For the last 
four or five years you have been urging that we 
should make a visit to your brother’s house, and 
now that I suggest it you are raising objections.” 

Yes, I know,” he said ; but this seems dif- 


MR. AND MRIS. WILLIAM MORRIS. 17 

ferent from an ordinary visit; it looks like 
merely making a convenience of our relations to 
serve oiir own ends,’’ 

Not in the least,” she replied ; it is only your 
way of looking at it ; and I am sure your brother 
would never be guilty of such an idea. You 
know you could take the children there yourself; 
and it would be so pleasant for both of you to 
spend a few days together after so long a sepa- 
ration. You would have so much to say to each 
other. It is so delightful to recall old times and 
old friends. Why, I should think you would be 
glad of the opportunity, instead of raising trifling 
objections.” 

The picture certainly looked very attractive, 
not only as presented by his wife, but with the 
additional coloring which his own ready imagina- 
tion had laid upon it. Then, too, it occurred to 
him that he might make such sensible and useful 
presents to his brother’s family as would serve, if 
not to cancel the obligation, at least to show a 
proper appreciation of it. But upon this last 
suggestion he concluded not to consult his wife, 
preferring rather to carry it out according to his 
own peculiar notions. 

2 


18 flora morris* choice. 

So the matter was finally settled. Mr. Morris 
was to write to his brother, and Mrs. Morris to 
her sister-in-law ; and it -was thought best not to 
mention the projected visit to the young people 
themselves until the receipt of the answers. 



CHAPTER II. 


THE MISSES AND MASTER MOBMIS. 

^he answers came in due time; both were 
favorable, as had been expected, and now 
Mrs. Morris had other difficulties to 
overcome — the objections of her daughters 
themselves. With Willie none were an- 
ticipated, for a farm life would exactly suit his 
tastes, which just then lay in a decidedly agricul- 
tural line. But the young ladies, of sixteen 
and eighteen, had very different ideas. They 
had accompanied their parents for the last few 
years to all the various places of fashionable re- 
sort, and had already acquired a fancy for the 
sort of life led in such places. They had danced 
night after night through the hot summer in 
crowded saloons, exposed to the careless gaze of a 
host of idle lookers-on, and enjoyed it, after a 
fashion, amazingly. To be sure, they arose to a 
late breakfast in the morning, sometimes with a 

19 


20 


FLORA MORRIS^ CHOICE. 


headache, and always feeling tired and stupid; 
but by evening all was right again, and they were 
able to join in the dance with as much zest as 
ever. The lessons learned amid such scenes were 
gained with a facility that was surprising, when 
compared with the slowness which they dis- 
played in the acquisition of their school studies. 
But these lessons were of a different description, 
and their teachings far more in accordance with 
the natural tendencies of the human heart. 
Young as they were, they were able to enter a 
crowded room with perfect self-possession, and walk 
its entire length with an air of quiet unconcern, 
although conscious that a hundred or more eyes 
might be watching their progress. At a public 
table they could give orders to the waiter in the 
most peremptory manner, and monopolize his 
attentions exactly as if they had sole proprietor- 
ship in him, and entirely regardless of the fact 
that others had an equal right to his services with 
themselves. They had learned to imitate all the 
airs and graces of the fashionable women of the 
world, with a correctness that rendered them 
simply ridiculous in the eyes of the observant. 
Their mother was well aware of this, and for a 


TEE MISSES AND MASTER MORRIS. 21 

time had encouraged it, under the impression that 
it would be favorable to their advancement in 
life ; but of late she had begun to doubt its ad- 
vantages, even from a worldly point of view. 
She was sincere, then, when she spoke of their 
beiifg better off at a farm-house, imagining that 
there might be a double benefit derived from it — 
in freshening the roses upon their cheeks, in 
toning down their manners, and removing some 
of the artificial gloss. She knew, however, that 
the young ladies themselves would not concur in 
this opinion, and would have as strong an antip- 
athy to a farm life as their parents; but Mrs. 
Morris was of a diplomatic turn, and had no ob- 
jection to meeting opposition when certain of 
holding in her hand the power by which to over- 
come it in the end. 

She accordingly chose an early opportunity of 
informing her children of the change in the plans 
for the summer, so far as they were personally 
concerned. Master Willie swung his cap for joy, 
and started off immediately to impart the good 
news to his companions, hoping to excite their 
envy by it. Blanche, the eldest daughter, ex- 
pressed her objections in the most open and de- 


22 


FLORA MORRIS^ CHOICE. 


cided manner, declaring that she should die of 
mnui long before the two months were ended; 
and Flora announced, quite as decidedly, her in- 
tention of staying at home and shutting herself 
up in the attic, as a far preferable mode of passing 
the summer to that which was proposed. But 
their mother could be firmer and more decided 
than they were. Blanche must run the risk of 
dying, and Flora could not be allowed the refuge 
of the attic, as the servants were to be dismissed 
and the house closed. Very reluctantly the 
young ladies found themselves obliged to submit 
to their fate, which they did rather ungracefully. 
Blanche, with far more regard for appearances 
than truth, when questioned as to their prospects 
for the season, vaguely informed her acquaintances 
that her father was to take her to meet some 
friends with whom she was to travel, but the 
route would not be fixed upon until they had con- 
feulted together. Flora was far less communica- 
tive upon the subject, merely saying that she 
was to be taken somewhere by her father, which 
somewhere meant a place which he had chosen, 
and not what she would have selected for herself. 

There is a pleasant excitement to most persons 


THE MISSES AND MASTER MORRIS. 23 

in the process of packing, and in making the 
other necessary arrangements for leaving home; 
and in spite of their ill-humor our young friends 
yielded to this influence and grew interested. 

‘^It is scarcely worth while to take any but our 
very plainest clothes,” said Blanche with a sigh, 
as she cast her eye over a row of dresses hanging 
in her wardrobe. 

“Unless you would like to set the fashions for 
our benighted country cousins,” suggested Flora. 

“I should never care to wear a dress again,” 
responded Blanche, “after having once seen an 
awkward copy of it upon some gawky country 
girl. But, Flora,” she inquired, “do tell me 
how many of these horrible cousins there are? 
You must know, for I heard papa telling you 
about them last evening.” 

“ Let me see,” mused Flora: “ there is only one 
daughter, about my age, papa thinks, and two 
sons, older. All horribly countrified, I dare say.” 

“Really! only three?” exclaimed Blanche. 
“ That is quite moderate, under the circumstances. 
I was afraid we would find at least a dozen, for 
as a general thing poor people have such very 
large families. For my part, I shall take au 


24 


FLORA MORRIS' CKOICF. 


extra quantity of light reading with me to pas^ 
away the time, as I have no expectation of find- 
ing entertainment from the household/’ 

^‘Wouldn^t it be just as well to take a few 
grammars and a copy or two of Chesterfield?" 
suggested Flora. But pray do not look so black, 
Blanche/’ she added quickly, seeing an ominous 
cloud upon her sister’s face; “ I meant them for 
the benefit of our country friends, and not for 
your own use.’’ 

^^You can attend to that business yourself," 
returned Blanche. shall take a silver fork 

and spoon, and a few napkins ; for if they choose 
to eat like barbarians, I do not,’’ 

'^Oh, never mind, Blanche!’’ replied Flora 
good-humoredly; may not be so very bad, 
after all. I suppose we shall manage to get 
along somehow. They will have pic-nics, quilt- 
ing parties, and such things, which will amuse us, 
I dare say.’’ 

‘‘ I could never be amused at a horrible country 
pic-nic," said Blanche. “ My tastes do not lie in 
the line of caterpillars and snakes, nor yet of 
dining under a tree that is constantly dropping 


THE MISSES AND MASTER MORRIS. 25 

black ants and dead leaves; and as to quilting 
parties, they are decidedly vulgar/' 

^^You need not look so disgusted," returned 
Flora. ‘‘ There is Mrs. Axminster, a leader of 
fashion, and the very pink of refinement, who 
spent four weeks camping out among the Adiron- 
dacks. I am certain, if you c6uld have heard 
her description of the wild sort of life that she 
and her party led there, it would have shocked 
you dreadfully. Although, to be sure, one can 
excuse such doings much more readily when they 
are merely indulged in for amusement by a person 
of Mrs. Axminster's social position, than when it 
is one's country cousins, who are vulgar and do 
not know any better." 

Blanche looked up hastily. Her perception 
was not remarkably keen, but she had an idea 
that she was being ridiculed, for Flora could be 
very sarcastic on occasions. But the countenance 
which met her gaze was very sober in its expres- 
sion, and left her still in doubt. 

'VYell, really. Flora," she said, I hope you 
are not meaning to defend vulgarity." 

‘^Oh dear! no!" returned Flora carelessly; 


26 


FLORA MORRIS* CHOICE. 


was only mentioning a singular fact con- 
cerning it.’^ 

The announcement of a visitor waiting to see 
them here ended the discussion for the present. 



CHAPTER III. 

TME JOEMNET AND ITS EWE, 

*HE morning fixed upon by the Morrises 
for their departure was cloudy and 

f damp, which circumstance tended to 
heighten the ill-humor of Blanche. 
Flora was gifted with a love of adven- 
ture, which, after the first burst of disappointment 
had subsided, began to exert a happy influence on 
her feelings. She was not satisfied with the ar- 
rangement ; but it had been made without con- 
sulting her, and now that all *was settled, the 
wisest course seemed to be to make the best of it. 
Willie had been looking forward to the visit with 
delightful anticipations, and when they reached 
the depot, moved about hither and thither happy, 
excited and busy. He had fishing-rods of vari- 
ous sizes and descriptions, about the safety of 
which he was deeply interested, and a large 
wooden box, containing a beautiful miniature 

27 




28 


FLORA MORRIS* CSOICF. 


boat. Over the latter article he held a fierce dis- 
cussion with the conductor while his father was 
attending to the trunks, the conductor insisting 
upon the said box being considered as baggage 
and transferred to the burden car, and Master 
Willie strenuously opposing such a movement, and 
persisting in his intention of taking it into the 
passenger car. The difficulty was brought to a 
premature end by an employ^ of the road sud- 
denly seizing the object of dispute, carrying it off, 
and placing it with the trunks. The man had 
been listening to the fray from the first with a 
comical expression of face, and had only waited 
for a fitting opportunity to bring it to a close. 
Master Willie was making ineffectual attempts to 
rescue it when he, in his turn, found himself 
summarily taken in charge by his father and 
seated in the car, where he w^as obliged to follow 
the example of his sister Flora and try to make 
the best of a disappointment. 

The train moved off, a few drops of rain fell, 
and for a time the landscape was obscured by the 
clouds. Presently these divided, exhibiting here 
and there traces of the beautiful blue ether. 
Then, very soon after, the sun shone out, present- 


THE JOURNEY AND ITS END. 


29 


ing a fine view of the country through which 
they were passing. Blanche had complained bit- 
terly of the weather when they started, yet now 
that it was clear, she scarcely looked out of the 
window to observe the scenery, but fixed her at- 
tention upon a foolish novel, whose pages proved 
more attractive to her just then than anything 
else. Flora, on the contrary, who was an admirer 
of nature, was very observant, and quite enthusi- 
astic in her expressions of admiration. 

They were obliged to leave the cars after a few 
hours’ ride and take a steamer, which would bring 
them within a few miles of their place of desti- 
nation. Here Blanche seated herself upon a 
rocking-chair in the cabin and resumed her book, 
while Flora stayed with her father and brother 
upon deck, in full enjoyment of the sail. It 
ended too quickly for Flora, and she saw the 
usual preparations being made for landing with 
regret. 

They were to be met by some member of their 
uncle’s family at the wharf, and both girls looked 
around with great anxiety to observe the appear- 
ance of the person and the vehicle. But they 
had no power of divining which of the motley 


30 


FLORA MORRIS’ CHOICE, 


crowd of horses and men waited for them ; and 
their curiosity must remain ungratified for a while, 
as their father instructed them to remain quietly 
on the boat until he should look after their bag- 
gage. Willie was already on the forward deck, 
carrying his fishing-rods and keeping guard over 
his treasure. 

Oh, dear ! It is too bad to be sent so entirely 
out of the world!’’ moaned Blanche. The ap- 
proach towards the end of the journey had 
turned her attention away from her novel, and 
renewed her apprehensions. 

I should like to leap over the next two 
months, and find myself safely back among the 
civilized,” said Flora, with an air of desperation. 
For, now that the reality was so near, Flora’s 
fears, which had been laid aside so persistently, 
began to revive. 

The two sisters stood disconsolately leaning 
over the side of the boat, when their father 
approached. 

^‘Come, girls,” he said ; everything is arranged 
now. The trunks are all right; I have seen your 
cousin, and he is waiting for you.” 

Very reluctantly they followed, while he pi- 


THE JOURNEY AND ITS END. 31 

loted the way safely through the crowd upon the 
boat and wharf until they had reached a clear 
space, where, with a large, old-fashioned carriage, 
drawn by sombre-looking horses, stood a tall, 
robust young man, whom their father introduced 
as their cousin, John Morris. He was respect- 
ably dressed in a suit of gray ; but his large, sun- 
burnt hands were ungloved, and felt hard and 
rough to the touch, as he grasped them in friendly 
greeting. His face, too, was bronzed by constant 
exposure to the sun and wind, and his appear- 
ance, although certainly not boorish, was still 
very different from that of their usual associates. 
One quick glance was sufficient to impress this 
fact upon their minds, and they looked forward 
with uneasy misgivings as to what the future 
might reveal to them. Willie perceived nothing 
amiss in his cousin John, who in his estimation 
was little less than a hero, possessing a key to all 
the mysteries of farming, and well endowed 
with a variety of accomplishments. The girls 
were on the back seat of the carriage, their 
father opposite, with Willie’s fishing-rods beside 
him ; while Master Willie, himself, was stationed 
in front, in full possession of his precious box. 


32 


FLORA MORRIS' CHOICE. 


The trunks had been left to be brought on in the 
stage, as there happened to be but few passengers 
this afternoon. 

Mr. Morris and Willie asked a great many 
questions, which John Morris answered; but he 
spoke in a low tone, and the girls gained but 
little information, as they could only catch a word 
or two now and then. The country looked beau- 
tifully green, with that freshness of coloring 
which one sometimes finds in the neighfferhood 
of the sea, and the air was pure and invigorating, 
springing from the same healthful locality. After 
a rapid drive of an hour or more they entered the 
main street of a village. It was very wide, 
almost covered with grass, and bordered upon 
each side by fine shade trees. The houses were 
plain, and generally unpainted, but they were 
sparsely built, and the gardens in front and the 
intervening spaces were verdant and well culti- 
vated, as if it were intended that nature should 
make amends for the deficiencies in art. 

Blanche and Flora looked at the small, unpre- 
tending dwellings, and, fancying that the inhabi- 
tants of such places must be rough and uncouth 
and not fit associates for themselves, imagined 


THE JOURNEY AND ITS END. 


33 


that all their fears were about being consum- 
mated. Here and there they espied a more 
modern and tasteful structure, and there were one 
or two of the older buildings, half hidden by 
large shade trees, and with a lawn and broad . 
carriage way, which seemed to give promise of 
more stylish residents; but still there was not 
enough in these to inspire sufficient hope to re- 
move the disagreeable impressions with which 
they had been haunted. The church, too, was 
picturesque and pretty, being decidedly in advance 
of the houses in its style of architecture ; but a 
church was of secondary importance in their esti- 
mation, and they scarcely deigned to look at it. 

Willie’s attention had been attracted by two 
large windmills, and he was in a state of perfect 
ecstasy. Here was an unexpected object of en- 
tertainment, and he felt that his bright anticipa-^ 
tions would be more than realized. His cousin 
f was overwhelmed with inquiries. Were these 
mills often used? Were the millers clever fel- 
lows, who would let a boy go in and see them 
now and then? What was the meaning of that 
pole with the empty basket perched upon it? 
And a variety of similar questions, all of which 
3 


34 


FLORA MORRIS’ CHOICE. 


were answered in the same low, quiet tone. Very 
interesting these answers must have proved to the 
questioner, if o^e might judge from the intensity 
with which he listened; and satisfactory, too, 
from the bright manner with which tliey were 
received. 

The carriage drove on through the whole 
length of the street. The sunlight, filtered 
through the branches of the trees, fell in beauti- 
ful streaks and patches upon the smooth, green 
sward beneath; a drove of cows were going home 
to be milked, and a flock of geese, almost daz- 
zling in their whiteness, moved slowly and sol- 
emnly along, with a stateliness of manner that 
was quite ludicrous. 

Blank! Blank called out Willie. ‘^Just 
look at those geese! There’s pride and dignity 
for you. Those fellows must belong to the 
highest aristocracy here, I should think, by the 
way they are strutting. Now, do you think it 
would be possible for you to come up to that?” 

wish you would try to talk more sensibly,” 
replied his sister, with a ruffled countenance. 

Blanche was very angry, and would have said 
much more had not a regard for decorum pre- 


THE JOURNEY AND ITS END. 35 

vented. Her brother had offended her purposely, 
not only by the tone of his remarks, but by call- 
ing her ‘^Blank/^ which he knew to be objection- 
able to her. 

Nature had once more regained its soothing in- 
fluence over Flora. She had nearly forgotten her 
troubles in the beauty of the scene, but unfortu- 
nately Willie’s rude remark and her sister’s im- 
patient reproof aroused her from more pleasing 
reflections. 

They left the main road, turned into a retired 
lane, and presently drew up before a long, low, ir- 
regular building, having a short walk leading to 
the door, bordered by flowers, with shade trees 
upon either side. There was an evident disre- 
gard of all the rules of architecture in the con- 
struction of the house, additions having been 
put up of the shape and size that would best suit 
the requirements of the family, and without much 
attention to taste. The boards, however, were 
painted, the windows were shuttered, and there 
was an air of neatness observable in the house 
and its surroundings. Still, the girls had never 
entered so humble a tenement on the terms of 
visitor, and now in their foolish pride they shrank 


36 


FLORA MORRIS’ CHOICE. 


back from doing so. On a former occasion we 
mentioned Mr. Morris as indulging in the spirit 
of a martyr; his daughters just now were experi- 
encing similar sensations. Nerving themselves 
to endure the fate allotted to them, they very re- 
luctantly prepared to leave the carriage. The 
house had at first arrested their attention to the 
exclusion of other objects, but now they were 
conscious of the presence of three persons waiting 
to receive them — an elderly couple and a young 
girl. They were all neatly dressed, yet in a style 
that appeared obsolete in the eyes of our fashion- 
able young women of the world. They had 
barely time to observe this, when they found 
themselves receiving a warm greeting, and return- 
ing it with about as much politeness as they were 
able to muster to their help under the circum- 
stances. 

Will you go immediately to your room, girls, 
or would you prefer to rest here for a while in- 
quired Mrs. Morris. 

Blanche murmured something about wishing to 
rid herself of the dust of travel. Their cousin 
led the way to the apartment prepared for them, 
where she paused for a moment, and offered to 


THE JOURNEY AND ITS END. 


37 


assist them, but they refused the offer and she 
withdrew. 

^^Oh dear! Flora,’’ exclaimed Blanche, as 
soon as they were alone, *‘what shall we do? It 
will kill us both to stay here two whole months.” 

I caught a glimpse of a pond a short distance 
down the road,” replied Flora, in a tone of des- 
peration, ^^and I think I shall seize the first op- 
portunity and drown myself.” 

Blanche opened her eyes wide in amazement. 

‘‘You needn’t look so astonished, Blanche,” 
she continued; “it would be far preferable to the 
lingering death you talk about, besides being de- 
cidely more romantic.” 

She spoke earnestly, in the coolest possible 
manner, and with a serious expression of coun- 
tenance.’ 

Blanche rarely understood a joke, and now she 
was greatly puzzled. She waited, silently delib- 
erating what answer she should make to this 
strange tirade; but Flora neither expected nor 
desired one. She glanced around the room and 
then went on talking rapidly i 

“Did you ever see such a queer wooden man- 
tel? and how in the world can any one be ex- 


88 


FLORA MORRIS* CHOICE. 


pected to breathe beneath such a low ceiling? I 
shall imagine that I am in a similar condition to 
the poor prisoner who was doomed to see the 
walls of his cell contract, day after day, until he 
was smothered to death between them. Then 
look, too, at this bedstead, made by one of Noah’s 
carpenters, I dare say; and the chairs and the 
washstand all bear marks of the same ancient in- 
dividual’s workmanship.” 

Blanche was still silent, but her countenance 
was sufficiently expressive of disgust without the 
need of words. She moved slowly about, divest- 
ing herself of hat and mantilla, and removing 
the various articles for toilet use from her small 
traveling bag. Then she turned to arrange her 
hair. 

Such a mean looking-glass !” she muttered. 

The reflection of a soiled, flushed and discon- 
tented face was not a very pleasing picture, but 
Blanche need not have held the glass responsible 
for it. 

‘^Oh! as to the toilet-glass,” said Flora, do 
not see that it is any worse than those we found 
when we were traveling last summer.” 

‘‘But then, you must remember, Flora, that 


THE JOURNEY AND ITS END. 


39 


this is a private house, and the people are your 
near relations,” replied Blanche. 

Dear me, Blanche,” retorted her sister, 

there is no need for you to get into a passion 
with me about it. The people are your relations 
as much as mine.” 

I know it, to my sorrow,” Blanche answered ; 
^^and I cannot imagine how papa ever could have 
such a vulgar brother.” 

^^That is the misfortune; the fault is in ac- 
knowledging them, and making us the sufferers,” 
said Flora, with emphasis. 

I do not intend ” 

But the intentions of Blanche were destined to 
remain unannounced, for the sound of men’s feet 
indicated that the trunks were being brought up, 
and warned her to silence. The men proved to be 
their uncle and cousin, who, after inquiring 
which part of the room would be most conveni- 
ent for the trunks, placed them in the spots de- 
signated, unstrapped them, and left the girls once 
more to the free indulgence of their ill-natured 
remarks. 

*^Well, Blanche,” inquired Flora, taking im- 
mediate advantage of the opportunity, ^^will you 


40 


FLORA MORRIS* CHOICE. 


tell our city friends that our uncle and cousin act 
as porters to their visitors?’’ 

Her sister returned answer, not verbally, but 
with one of her most expressive grimaces; but 
now the tea-bell rang, and forced her out of her 
usual indolence into hurriedly finishing her toilet. 

At the foot of the stairs the sisters found their 
cousin waiting to conduct them to the tea-room. 

Uncertain as to how her father would regard 
any such proceedings, Blanche had concluded not 
to produce her napkin and silver during his stay, 
and a glance at the well-arranged table was suffi- 
cient to convince her that this omission would not 
occasion any disagreeable consequences. There 
was a full supply of both articles; although per- 
haps the damask might be a degree or two coarser 
than that to which she was accustomed. The 
fare was good and bountiful; but there was no 
servant, and the family waited on themselves, 
which proved another source of annoyance to 
their sensitive visitors. 

Now for the first time Blanche and Flora found 
opportunity to examine more closely the personal 
appearance of their relatives. Mr. George 
Morris was quite tall, straight, and slender in 


THE JOURNEY AND ITS END. 


41 


figure, and had a decidedly handsome face, 
although very much bronzed by constant exposure 
to the weather. His. wife was of medium size, 
and only remarkable for a very fine pair of eyes 
and an unusually bright and intelligent counte- 
nance. Their daughter Lucy seemed to have in- 
herited the best traits from each of her parents. 
Her features were, like her father’s, almost per- 
fect in their regularity, and her eyes were her 
mother’s, although somewhat softer in expression. 
Lucy was certainly very pretty, yet as this truth 
forced itself upon Blanche, she modified it with 
the inward comment, ^^Very much tanned and 
decidedly countrified.” John, the eldest son, and 
only remaining member of the family present, had 
already been introduced to the notice of his 
cousins. 

The meal passed quite comfortably, the taci- 
turnity of the young ladies being lost sight of in 
the loquacity of their father, who had very many 
questions to ask and answer. After tea the time 
progressed rather slowly. Mrs. Morris seemed 
to have engagements in another part of the house 
that demanded her attention, and Lucy’s attempts 
at conversation being but faintly responded to. 


42 


FLORA MORRIS’ CHOICE. 


soon ceased almost entirely. John Morris, ap- 
pearing to identify himself with his father an(^ 
uncle, had joined them, and his low tones were 
occasionally heard, as if he was doing his part 
towards the general entertainment. 

Presently, however, their aunt returned, carry- 
ing a lighted lamp, which she placed in the sit- 
ting-room upon one side of the hall. Upon 
seeing this their uncle arose, and instantly John 
and Lucy did the same, while the visitors intui- 
tively followed their example. 

I hope, William, that you and your daughters 
will join us in our evening worship,’’ said Mr. 
George Morris. 

His brother assented quickly, yet with the em- 
barrassed air of one who consents blindly to do 
what he does not understand. • . 

The party adjourned to the sitting-room, where 
they were joined by a respectable-looking man 
and woman, who said, ^^How do you do?” upon 
entering, and were introduced as David and 
Jemima Carson. Hymn-books were distributed, 
and then the exercises were ‘commenced by Mr. 
George Morris reading the hymn — 


TEE JOURNEY AND ITS END. 43 

“How sweet the name of Jesus sounds 
In a believer’s ears 

John raised the tune, and the whole family 
joined in the singing. His father then read a 
chapter from the gospel of Luke, and after this 
offered a prayer. While these services were 
going on, Blanche and Flora were in a state of 
complete bewilderment. It was not only the first 
time that they had attended family worship, but 
also the first time they had heard a prayer uttered 
except from the pulpit. When the exercises were 
concluded, their consternation and awkwardness 
had increased to such a degree that their aunt 
observed it, and, not understanding its cause, 
and supposing them to be sleepy and tired, pro- 
posed their retiring for the night. They gladly 
assented to this, and she lighted a lamp and went 
with them to their chamber. Here she remained 
for a few moments, and with motherly kindness 
arranged the windows and curtains, took a general 
survey of the apartment, and inquired if they 
needed anything. Then, kissing them each affec- 
tionately, she bade them good-night, and turned 
to go; but suddenly remembering that she had 
forgotten something, she said: 


44 


FLORA MORRIS^ CHOICE. 


are what you may regard as very early 
risers. The first bell will ring at six o’clock ; the 
second one at quarter before seven for prayers; 
and then we have breakfast immediately after 
prayers are over.” 

The girls listened to her with constrained po- 
liteness, but as soon as she was safely out of 
hearing Flora burst into a fit of suppressed 
laughter. 

O Blanche,” she cried, did you ever know 
anything so queer? Why this is equal to the 
best that Barnum could produce. A regular 
Museum. Then to think of papa having a 
brother who is a Methodist, or Puritan, or what- 
ever you may please to call him !” 

Here Flora indulged in another fit of laughter. 
But Blanche, who was not so excitable as her 
sister, could see nothing amusing in the ordeal 
through which she was passing. 

cannot stay here; I shall go home with 
papa,” she said. “Mamma would never oblige 
me to stay if she knew that we were expected to 
attend Methodist prayer meeting twice in the 
day. Besides, it is utterly impossible for me to 
get up at six o’clock in the morning.” 


THE JOURNEY AND ITS END. 


45 


I think you will have to try it/’ replied 
Flora, restraining her laughter — while papa is 
here, at any rate; and then, you know, if we go 
to bed at half-past eight, as we are doing now, it 
will give us a good, long night. We can sing 
the old nursery rhyme : 

‘ Early to bed, and early to rise, 

Will make a man healthy, wealthy and wise.* 

How wealthy and wise do you think we shall 
be by the end of the summer season, Blanche?” 

But Blanche was indulging in one of her silent 
spells, and would not answer. 



CHAPTER IV. 


BRIGHTON— ITS CVSTOMS JLNB MANKEltS. 

® 0T long after day-break on the following 
morning Flora was awakened by the sing- 

f ing of birds. 

‘‘O Blanche,” she exclaimed, ^Mid 
you ever hear such delightful music ? 
This is better than any matinee that I ever 
attended.” 

Who wants a matinee at this time in the 
morning ? It is a perfectly heathenish infliction,” 
muttered Blanche. 

I dare say the birds consider it quite civilized,” 
returned Flora. 

^^Well, then, I do not,” repeated Blanche; 
“ they have no right to awaken people at this 
time in the morning.” 

^‘Dear me, Blanche,” replied Flora, ^^it is 
hardly worth while to blame th^ birds. I suppose 
the poor things hear so much said about this being 
46 


BRIGHTON— ITS CUSTOMS AND MANNERS. 47 


a free country that tliey think they have a right to 
sing when they please/^ 

Blanche took no notice of the implied sarcasm, 
but went on complainingly : 

Then there were the chickens crowing in the 
middle of the night, and answering each other 
from miles around ; and then again this morning 
the cows and the geese, too, were just as noisy. 
It seems to me that the animals here make them- 
selves more important and consequential than the 
human beings.’’ 

Perhaps they have a right to do so,” Flora 
answered : you know Gough’s story of the 

Irishwoman’s pig being the ' gintleman that paid 
the rint.’ So, I suppose these animals are the 
gentlemen and ladies who pay the rent here.” 

‘‘ Where in the world. Flora, do you pick up 
such vulgar anecdotes ?” inquired Blanche, with 
an expression of disgust. 

^^I did not pick it up,” replied Flora, quickly; 
‘‘Lena Hoffman found it for me at one of 
■Mr. Gough’s lectures. You ought to remember 
it as well as I, for you were present when she 
told it.” 

^‘I always mafie it a point to forget every- 


48 


FLORA MORRIS' CHOICE. 


thing of that sort/^ said Blanche, with an air of 
self-satisfaction. 

And geography and history, too, in the same 
way,’’ retorted Flora ; but my memory is not as 
accommodating as yours.” 

do wish. Flora, you would let me go to 
sleep, instead of talking such nonsense,” re- 
turned Blanche, with the air of one who is being 
ill-used. 

^‘Oh! by all means,” said Flora; ‘‘it would 
be quite as agreeable to me as to you.” 

Blanche returned no answer to this very candid 
remark. She was very drowsy, and preferred go- 
ing to sleep to entering upon a war of words in 
which she was pretty well assured Flora would 
come off conqueror. Flora, on the contrary, was 
wide awake. She remained in bed for a while, 
turning from side to side uneasily. Suddenly the 
the idea occurred to her of unpacking her trunk, 
which she instantly concluded to do ; and this 
business was barely accomplished when the first 
bell rang. She aroused Blanche, who resumed 
her complaints as soon as she got out of bed; 
and then, upon finding that Flora’s dresses were 


BRIGHTON— ITS CUSTOMS AND MANNERS. 49 

all hanging in the wardrobe, a new fountain of 
bitterness seemed to be unsealed. 

“And we must unpack our trunks, without 
having any one to help us,’’ she whined. “ This 
is really barbarous ! Those jv^ho cannot afford to 
keep maids ought not to invite respectable people 
to visit them.” 

“ Perhaps we might be told that we ought to 
have brought maids with us,” Flora answered. 
“Besides, Blanche,” she continued, “to be per- 
fectly serious, I have doubts about our having 
been invited.” 

Blanche opened her eyes to their fullest 
extent. 

“ I do not mean to say,” Flora went on, “ that 
mamma forced us upon the family against their 
will, or that we had never had an invitation to 
make them a visit ; but I know that it was she 
who first suggested it on this occasion.” 

“ I cannot understand why mamma should send 
us here this summer,” mused Blanche. 

“I can explain it,” said Flora. “Papa has 
not been making much money lately, and this 
visit of ours is an economical contrivance.” 

Blanche sighed as she went on with her dress- 

4 


50 


FLORA- MORRIS^ CHOICE. 


ing. She was not so largely endowed with con- 
versational powers as her sister, and the strange 
events of the past few days had not tended to in- 
crease the flow except in a certain direction. 
Nor was she gifted with much natural energy, 
and her toilet now progressed so slowly that 
Flora began to fear that she would not be ready 
by the time the second bell should sound. 

“ Come, Blanche she said, you must hurry. 
Tell me which dress you mean to wear, and I will 
get it out for you.’’ 

Blanche designated the dress, and again began 
a tirade against what she was pleased to style the 
barbarous customs of the house. 

But then you know, Blanche,” said Flora, in- 
terrupting her, “ that when one is in Eome, one 
must do as the Bomans do.” 

Flora never nursed her troubles. When she 
found herself called upon to do what she did not 
like, she fought resolutely against it, but if it 
proved to be inevitable, she submitted ; and when 
this was done, she was seldom heard giving ut- 
terance to useless complaints. So now the petu- 
lant whinings of Blanche annoyed her. 

The caution to Blanche had not been given un- 


BRIGHTON— ITS CUSTOMS AND MANNERS. 51 

necessarily, for the bell rang while she was ar- 
ranging her collar. 

There is my trunk unlocked,” she cried, as 
Flora was hurrying her out of the room. 

Never mind your trunk,” said Flora, still 
keeping on close behind her; there is no one 
here to steal from it. David and Jemima are all 
right, I have no doubt.” 

The morning worship was conducted in a sim- 
ilar manner to that of the previous evening, 
which was of small account to the visitors, who, 
although sitting quietly by, scarcely heard a word. 
Breakfast followed, and the table was still fur- 
nished with the requisite amount of silver and 
damask. When the meal was over Flora walked 
out on the piazza, with a desire to see how the 
view looked by daylight. Willie followed his 
cousin John closely, for he had made an engage- 
ment with him before worship to go in the wagon 
to some distant hay-field, and was afraid of being 
forgotten. Blanche went up stairs to assure her- 
self of the safety of her trunk, and to perform the 
disagreeable task of unpacking. While she was 
thus engaged her cousin Lucy knocked at the 
door, and upon receiving permission, entered the 


52 


FLORA MORRIS* CHOICE. 


room, carrying a bucket evidently intended to 
hold the waste water. 

Shall I put your things to air?’^ she inquired 
timidly, with a glance towards the bed, which 
had not been disturbed since the girls left it. 

The question was put in the tone of one asking 
a favor. 

Blanche looked up hastily from her trunk with 
a flushed face and nodded an assent. 

Can it be possible,’^ she whispered to herself, 
‘Hhat we are expected to make our own beds, 
and that Lucy Morris is the chambermaid 

Lucy went quietly on with her business of air- 
ing the bed, entirely unconscious that there could 
be any thought of impropriety connected with 
her work, and Blanche resumed her unpacking. 
Both were silent — the one from a timid hesita- 
tion as to how she should commence the conver- 
sation, and the other from a ridiculous feeling of 
contempt towards people who did their own work. 
But Lucy had an intuitive perception that there 
was something amiss with Blanche, that she was 
uncomfortable and dissatisfied ; and desiring to re- 
move the cause if possible, she overcame her feel- 
ing of reserve sufficiently to say in a gentle tone, 


BRIGHTON— ITS CUSTOMS AND MANNERS. 63 

“Is there anything that I can do for you, 
Cousin Blanche? If you need anything that we 
can get for you^I wish you would let us know.” 

Thank you ; you are very kind, but I am not 
needing anything,” Blanche replied. 

The words were very proper, but they were not 
candid, and there was a frigid politeness in the 
speaker’s manner that chilled Lucy, She left the 
room, but returned in about a half hour with 
water to fill the pitchers, when, finding the bed 
unmade, and Blanche still occupied about her 
trunk, she quietly spread the covers herself. She 
had completed the task, and gone away for the 
second time, when Flora entered. 

O Blanche !” she exclaimed, after carefully 
closing the door, it is fortunate that you went 
up stairs immediately after breakfast, or your 
nerves would have received a fearful shock. I 
saw your aunt at the kitchen door, with a large 
tow apron tied around her waist, scouring a pan ; 
and I saw your cousin John wearing a patched 
linen coat, with every particle of starch out of it, 
and an old, yellow straw hat, broken at the edge, 
starting off down the lane in a hay-wagon drawn 
by oxen !” 


54 


FLOTtA MOnitlS^ CHOICE. 


It was now Blanche’s turn to complain of the 
peculiar use of the possessive pronoun in her 
favor. 

“ It is perfectly ridiculous in you, Flora,” she 
said, plaintively, to call these people my rela- 
tions, when they are yours, too.” 

I am sure I did not say they were not my re- 
lations; I merely mentioned the fact that they 
were yours,” replied Flora, with an air of injured 
innocence. But whatever you may choose to 
think,” she continued, Willie has no notion of 
denying them ; he is delighted. John Morris is 
a hero in his eyes. I wish you had seen his air 
of triumph as he rode off with him in a hay- 
wagon.” 

“You had no right to let him go,” said 
Blanche, solemnly. “ Willie is naturally inclined 
to be rude, and he will be learning all sorts of 
vulgar habits.” 

“ Do talk sensibly for once in your life, 
Blanche,” replied Flora, impatiently. “ I should 
like to know how I could prevent Willie from 
going with his cousin, after his father haxl given 
him permission to do so. Then you know, just 
as well as I, that he has no better companions at 


BRIGHTON— ITS CUSTOMS AND MANNERS, 55 

home. Coachmen, butcher’s boys, and even coal- 
heavers occasionally, are his chosen associates, and 
stables and blacksmith-shops his favorite places 
of resort. A man is a man and a boy a boy to 
Willie; the only distinction that he understands 
between them being, which is likely to afford him 
the largest amount of amusement? I used to 
wonder where our brother got such a disposition, 
and now I know perfectly well.” 

Flora paused from sheer exhaustion, and there 
was silence for a few moments. Blanche was the 
first to break it this time. She needed sympathy, 
and she could best obtain it from her fellow-suf- 
ferer ; so, smoothing down her ruffled temper, she 
said, with a sigh : 

Flora! do you know that we must make 
our own beds? Lucy Morris did it this morning, 
but I saw by her manner that we were expected 
to do it ourselves. They do not keep any 
chambermaid.” 

am not a servant, and will never make the 
bed 1” exclaimed Flora, with a flushed fece. 

^‘It is very distressing, but I do not see what 
we are to do,” said Blanche, taking out the novel 
which she had been reading upon the previous 


56 


FLORA MORRIS’ CSOICE. 


day, and throwing herself upon the top of the 
neatly-made bed. 

Flora felt like a chained prisoner, to whom 
there was no escape. She strummed upon the 
window-sill with such vehemence as to bruise her 
finger-ends severely. She had come up stairs 
with very different feelings from those which she 
was experiencing, and her remarks to Blanche 
upon entering the room did not express the real 
emotions of her heart, being merely intended as 
a little by-play, previous to a burst of enthusiasm 
upon the beautiful view from the piazza with 
which she meant to favor her, and which, in her 
estimation, seemed almost sufficient in itself to 
atone for the rusticity of the inhabitants. But 
Blanche had put her out of humor with her 
lecture about their brother; and this last infor- 
mation concerning the chamberwork of the es- 
tablishment proved entirely too much for her 
equanimity. She looked very angry now, as she 
stood at the window inspecting her injured 
finger-tips, from which the blood seemed almost 
ready to start. 

A knock was heard at the door and their aunt 
entered — without the tow apron now, yet wear- 


BRIGHTON— ITS CVSTOMS AND MANNERS. 57 

ing a dark calico dress, which was too short by 
several inches to suit the taste of her fashionable 
young visitors. She came in in her brisk, cheery 
way, and glancing at the recumbent figure of 
Blanche upon the bed, inquired whether she were 
sick or had not rested well upon the previous 
night. 

Blanche colored slightly, and denied being 
sick, but acknowledged having had her slumbers 
disturbed. 

‘‘ I came to ask,’’ said Mrs. Morris, whether 
you would like to ride down to the sea this morn- 
ing? The carriage can be got ready in a half 
hour, which will give you plenty of time to look at 
the bathers and return home before dinner-time.’^ 

The horizon began to brighten up considerably 
to both young ladies. Blanche prepared to lay 
aside her indolence and Flora her ill-humor. 
They immediately expressed their willingness to 
comply with the invitation, and made a variety 
of inquiries as to the distance from the sea, 
whether there were many bathers, &c. They 
found that the sea was about a mile and a half 
distant by the road, that there was a good 
beach, and at certain seasons there was a consid- 


58 


FLORA MORRIS' CHOICE. 


erable number of bathers. This suggested a new 
topic for regret; they had brought no bathing- 
dresses with them. Mrs. Morris proposed send- 
ing for these, and then Blanche remembered that 
their dresses had become too short for them, be- 
sides being shabby, and that their mother, not 
thinking them worth bringing home, had given 
them to a servant at the hotel where they were 
staying. And then their aunt overcame this diffi- 
culty by suggesting that they should purchase ma- 
terial at the store, and make up the dresses 
themselves. 

‘‘I wonder if we can do it?” Blanche said, 
doubtfully. 

The idea of making a bathing-dress seemed to 
her almost as formidable as making a house. 

‘^Certainly, you can,” replied her aunt; I 
will cut them out and fit them for you, and you 
will have no difficulty.” 

Her confident air encouraged them, and they 
determined to choose the material and commence 
making the dresses as soon as possible. When 
this matter was settled, Mrs. Morris left them, 
being suddenly reminded of some culinary opera- 
tions which would require attention. 


BniaSTON-ITS CVST0M8 Am MANNEm 

At the appointed time the carriage drew up 
before the door. Their uncle acted as coachman 
now, and their father and Cousin Lucy were to 
be of the party. 

Willie, too, had been invited, and had accepted 
the invitation enthusiastically; but he had not 
yet made his appearance, and they waited for him. 
Presently he came in sight, running across the 
fields, followed by Nero, a large Newfoundland 
dog belonging to the household, with whom he 
was already upon the most intimate terms, with 
that peculiar sort of free-masonry which gener- 
ally exists between a boy and a dog. 

Oh dear he gasped, quite out of breath 
from the exertion he had been making, I should 
like very much to go down to the ocean, but 
Cousin John cannot leave his hay, and I am 
having a splendid time.^^ 

Oh, very well,^^ replied his father, do just 
as you please.’’ 

But, Willie,” remonstrated Blanche, making 
an effort to detain him, '‘you must remember 
that you are not to soil your clothes; and you 
had much better put on your gloves.” 

" Well, Blanche ! you have certainly hit upon 


60 


FLORA MORRIS* CEOICE. 


novel suggestions for Willie/’ said Flora ; '^yon 
might as well advise a duck that is swimming in 
the water to wear a life preserver and not to get 
its feet wet.” 

I do not believe that mamma would approve 
of his working in the hay at all/’ replied Blanche, 
plaintively; ^‘but I am not to blame. I cannot 
prevent it.” 

Of course you are not to blame, and nobody 
expects you to prevent it,” retorted Flora; 
‘‘while papa is here I should think he would be 
the only person properly held accountable for 
Willie.” 

These remarks were lost to the ears of the gen- 
tlemen, as the carriage was moving rapidly on its 
way; and Flora’s mind, being relieved of this 
last burden, was able now to take its usual delight 
in nature. 

“O Lucy I” she exclaimed, “what beautifully 
smooth grass you have here ! It looks as if it 
were freshly rolled every day.” 

“It is the cows who deserve the credit,” re- 
plied Lucy; “they keep it smooth by constant 
cropping.” 

They were passing down the main street of the 


BRIGHTON— ITS CUSTOMS AND MANNERS. 61 

village, and presently they came to a long pond, 
shaded by trees, on which a number of geese 
and ducks were swimming, and again Flora was 
in an ecstasy. 

^‘What elegantly white geese those are she 
exclaimed. ‘^They look just like swans.” 

Lucy smiled and nodded assentingly. It was 
always very pleasant for her to hear the praises 
of anything that belonged to her native place, 
even if it were only the geese. 

^‘All Flora’s geese are swans,” remarked 
Blanche, quietly. 

This was an unusually bright speech for 
Blanche, and it surprised Flora so much that she 
concluded to allow it to pass unanswered, and a 
slight pause followed the unexpected scintil- 
lation. 

Upon the elevation just above the pond was a 
burying-ground of very ancient date, for it had 
been more than two hundred years since the place 
was first settled, and death is never very tardy in 
making inroads upon even the healthiest settle- 
ments. Here Lucy pointed out a monument, 
which she told them was erected in memory of 
eighteen sailors, who had been wrecked upon the 


62 


FLORA MORRIS’ CHOICE. 


coast some miles below. There had been twenty- 
one on the vessel, all of whom were lost; but the 
bodies of the captain and his two officers were 
claimed by friends, while these eighteen poor fel- 
lows had no one to care for them. So the good 
people of the village had had them brought up 
and buried in the same hallowed spot with their 
own loved ones, and a funeral sermon was 
preached, and tears were shed over them; and 
although they had been strangers in life, yet in 
their death they were recognized as brothers. 

It was a simple statement of a fact, but Lucy 
told it with a gentle pathos that affected their 
hearts ; and although they were not accustomed to 
exhibit such emotions, yet tears were in the eyes 
of all three, as in imagination they pictured the 
poor men struggling vainly for life upon the 
stormy waves until at last they were overpowered 
by death in the very sight of land. But young 
people are sometimes capable of making very 
rapid transitions from one feeling to its opposite, 
and so it happened at this time. A very stylish- 
looking carriage, in which three elegantly dressed 
women were sitting, passed them. 

Whose carriage is that?’’ inquired Blanche, 


BRIGHTON— ITS CUSTOMS AND MANNERS. 63 

quickly, all traces of sorrow instantly disappear- 
ing from her face, and leaving only an expression 
of the liveliest curiosity. 

“That is Mr. Grampion’s carriage,^’ replied 
Lucy, quietly ; “ his family have been coming 
here for the last two seasons.^’ 

Blanche and Flora each began silently to 
build airy castles founded upon this information. 
These were evidently peo2)le of some conse- 
quence, and here was an unexpected promise of 
making congenial acquaintances. Such stylish 
horses, equipage and servants! And the ladies 
had such an aristocratic air about them ! 
They had instantly recognized that, notwith- 
standing the rapidity with which the carriage had 
passed them. In the midst of these pleasing 
anticipations a difficulty occurred to Flora. She 
had not noticed any of the usual signs of 
recognition being exchanged between the occu- 
pants of the two vehicles. 

“Are you acquainted with this family?’^ she 
inquired of Lucy. 

“Not at all,’’ replied Lucy; “I do not think 
that they are on visiting terms with any of the 


64 


FLORA MORRIS’ CHOICE. 


Brighton people. Their aoxjuaiutances, I believe, 
are from the city.’^ 

Here was a new and bitter disappointment, for 
which some one must be to blame, and Lucy, being 
on the spot and the most suitable person, was held 
responsible and censured accordingly. 

I wonder if papa knows them?’’ said Blanche. 

To be sure he does,” returned Flora ; but 
of course we could not ex^iect them to form ac- 
quaintance among those who are so entirely out of 
their circle.” 

I cannot imagine what inducement they can 
have to come to a place where there is so little 
good society,” said Blanche. 

Lucy looked up hastily. She was beginning 
to understand now what it was in her cousin’s 
manner which had seemed so peculiar to her, and 
her timidity vanished with the understanding. 

I think you are mistaken. Cousin Blanche,” 
she said, very quietly ; “ for you have not been 
here long enough to know what kind of society 
we have. ^‘And besides,” she added, quickly, 
^‘you cannot know who the Grampions are, or 
whether they are the kind of people that one 
would desire to visit.” 


BRIGHTON— ITS CUSTOMS AND MANNERS. 65 


Lucy was perfectly ignorant of the art which 
her cousins had acquired of judging the qualifi- 
cations of strangers from the outward circum- 
stances by which they were surrounded. A con- 
temptuous smile curled the lip of Blanche, but it 
was quite lost upon the person for whom it was 
intended. Lucy, having given expression to her 
feelings, now sat quietly looking out of the 
carriage window, her heightened color alone 
showing the excitement which she had undergone. 
Flora was angry at the prospect of being disap- 
pointed in her hope of forming a fashionable ac- 
quaintance, and yet she could not help admiring 
her cousin’s manner. With all her gentleness 
and simplicity, Lucy was certainly by no means 
deficient in independence and self-respect. 

A sudden turn in the road brought them in 
view of the ocean and afforded a new subject for 
contemplation. The surf was unusually high this 
morning, and there were but few bathers, 
although there were perhaps a dozen or more ve- 
hicles upon the beach. Among these was the 
carriage which had so recently attracted their 
notice. It was too conspicuous in contrast with 
its plainer neighbors to remain long unobserved. 

5 


66 


FLORA MORRIS’ CHOICE. 


Blanche and Flora sat down upon the beach 
with the rest of the party, their attention all the 
time alternating between the splendid waves 
which dashed furiously against the shore, and the 
stylish-looking occupants of the carriage near by. 
They wondered who these Grampions could be. 
The name sounded strangely familiar to both, and 
yet they had no recollection of having met them 
either in the city or at any watering-place. Still 
they must belong to the very best society, judg- 
ing from appearances, and the young ladies con- 
sidered themselves too wise in matters of this sort 
to be mistaken. 

‘^Perhaps they have been spending the last few 
years abroad,” Blanche suggested; everybody 
goes abroad now, and that may account for our 
not having met with them.” 

She had barely finished her suggestion when 
her uncle appeared, followed by an elderly and 
a young lady, whom he introduced as Mrs. and 
Miss Edmonds. Mrs. Edmonds welcomed the 
young strangers to Brighton, hoped that they 
might enjoy their visit, and promised to make an 
early call upon them with her daughter. Then, 


BRIGHTON— ITS CUSTOMS AND MANNERS 67 

after a few remarks upon everyday topics, she 
took leave of them. 

‘^Who are those people?’^ Flora inquired of 
Lucy. 

‘^Mr. Edmonds keeps a store in the village, 
and their house is not very far from ours,” Lucy 
replied. 

Once more the lip of Blanche curled contemp- 
tuously, while she exchanged expressive looks 
with her sister, which Lucy saw, but did not ap- 
pear to notice. Presently Flora had another 
question to ask : 

^^ Are retail shopkeepers received into good 
society in Brighton ?” 

Certainly,” Lucy answered ; and the Ed- 
monds are very highly esteemed. Mr. Edmonds 
is a deacon in the church, and Mrs. Edmonds^ 
father was the settled pastor in this place for 
many years.” 

Flora bit her lip and shrugged her shoulders. 
This was a new way of judging of one^s claim to 
social distinction. 

I wonder where we should be,” she thought 
to herself, “ if our position in society was made 
to depend upon our standing in the church ?” 


68 


FLORA MORRIS’ CHOICE, 


But there was not much opportunity for private 
reflection, as other inhabitants of the place were 
waiting for introductions, for a visitor in the 
family of one was regarded in the light of a 
friend by all. But these all seemed to belong to 
the same class as the Edmonds — not one having 
that air of fashion which marked the Grampions, 
and which our young friends considered an es- 
sential qualification for all candidates for their 
favor. Blanche was firmly convinced that it was 
to the Grampions alone that she must look for 
whatever of happiness she might hope to derive 
from her visit. 

On the way home she found what she had 
wanted — a favorable opportunity of questioning 
her father about these distinguished people. Did 
he know them ? 

Certainly,’^ he replied; ^Hhere is but one 
family of the name, and they are well known in 
the city.” 

‘^Are you personally acquainted with them, 
papa ?” the young lady next inquired. 

“ I can hardly say that I am,” he said, with a 
peculiar expression, ‘^and if I was, I might perhaps 
be rather slow in acknowledging it. Mr. Gram- 


BRIGHTON— ITS CUSTOMS AND MANNERS. 69 


plon commenced life by keeping a low, disreputable 
tavern in the outskirts of the city. He was a good 
judge of liquor, and understood how to compound 
a sort of drink that pleased the palates of his cus- 
tomers. A dissipated young man, who inherited a 
large fortune from his father, was driving out one 
day and stopped at the house, and was so delighted 
with the drink, and with things about the house 
generally, that he concluded it was a pity to have 
such fine talents wasted in so poor an establish- 
ment. This was the beginning of Grampion’s 
good fortune. Under the patronage of his new 
friend, he hired a larger house in a better neigh- 
borhood and enlarged his business, which, unfor- 
tunately for the community, became so flourishing 
that in the course of a few years he grew to be 
quite wealthy. I understood recently that he had 
bought a brown-stone house up town and set up 
a stylish carriage.” 

This is the very same man,” responded Mr. 
George Morris; ^‘his fame reached this place 
almost as soon as his family.” 

Blanche and Flora did not relish in the least 
this history of the Grampions. 

I shall never again, as long as I live, attempt to 


70 FLORA MORRIS' CHOICE. 

judge of a person by appearances/^ said Flora, with 
strong emphasis upon every word that she uttered. 

Now, do you know,’^ remarked Blanche, 
coolly, “ that I thought I detected a tinge of vul- 
garity about them all the time? There was some- 
thing in their way of sitting in the carriage that 
impressed me with the idea that they were not 
accustomed to such things.’’ 

Lucy was astonished at this speech, as she dis- 
tinctly remembered the decided manner with 
which Blanche had expressed her opinion of the 
high social standing of these people. Flora, on 
the contrary, being accustomed to hear her sister 
contradict her own statements, was not at all sur- 
prised, and allowed the remark to pass unnoticed 
as an everyday occurrence. 

The party returned in time to eat an early 
dinner at what would be about the lunch hour at 
home. In the ^fternoon they took .a pleasant 
drive of a few miles to a very beautiful harbor. 
John was the coachman now, and Willie was of 
the company, and he and Flora probably enjoyed 
the ride most of all ; each in the same degree, 
although differing in their mode of expressing 
their satisfaction. 


BRIGHTON— ITS CUSTOMS AND MANNERS. 71 

In the evening Mrs. Morris proposed music, 
and Blanche instantly cast a dubious look at the 
open piano. It was a cheap instrument, no 
doubt, she reasoned, bought more for ornament 
than use. That one glance was sufficient to show 
that she was mistaken. She recognized it as the 
production of a celebrated maker, although the 
case was not of the most elegant style. Both 
Flora and herself had been taking lessons from 
an expensive teacher for years, but now they ex- 
cused themselves from playing, on the plea of 
having brought no music with them. 

Lucy immediately went to the music-stand and 
took out her books and portfolio, which she of- 
fered for their inspection, but they declined look- 
ing over them. Then Lucy was requested to 
play, which she did instantly, without any of the 
customary show of affectation. Her execution 
was tasteful and correct for so young a performer, 
which did not escape the observation of her 
cousins, and greatly astonished them. Then, at 
her father’s suggestion, she sang some pieces with 
her brother, in a style which was certainly very 
creditable to both. The songs were only simple 
ballads, which required no grand display of skill; 


72 FLORA MORRIS' CHOICE.^ 

I 

yet the voices were very musical and the expres- 
sion uncommonly fine, and their uncle was 
charmed. He spoke quite enthusiastically, de- 
claring that he had not had such a treat for years, 
the modern attempt at singing sounding to his ears 
strained and unnatural. 

On the whole, there was less restraint now than 
upon the previous evening. Flora, feeling some- 
what humbled at her mistake about the Gram- 
pions, condescended to ask her cousin John a few 
questions concerning the neighborhood. He an- 
swered very intelligently aud in well-chosen 
language, which surprised her greatly in one 
whom she had seen riding in a rather uncleanly 
ox-cart, and wearing a patched linen coat and 
an old straw hat. Blanche tried hard to keep up 
a dignified reserve, but Willie managed to frus- 
trate all her efibrts by constantly exciting her 
indignation at his rude bluntness. 

This night, too, passed more comfortably than 
the last had done. They went to bed tired and 
sleepy; the novelty of their position had worn 
oflF somewhat, and they slept well, in spite of the 
noisy tones of animated nature. 


CHAPTER V. 


MMS. GEORGE MORRIS. 

|N awakening the next morning at the 
sound of the first bell, however, they 
found the same array of formidable dif- 
ficulties still standing before them. 

Flora,’’ sighed Blanche, ‘^what 
shall we do about this dreadful bed? I almost 
hated to get into it last night, when I remembered 
that I must make it up this morning.” 

There is no must about it,’^ replied Flora. I 
never shall do it. If Lucy Morris chooses to 
act as chambermaid here, let her have the full 
benefit of the situation. We can give her a fee, 
you know, when we leave.” 

So they dressed and went down stairs to break- 
fast, and did not return to their room until Lucy 
had already passed through it with her bucket. 
Then they found, to their chagrin, that she had 
not acted as upon the previous day, and as they 

73 


74 FLORA MOR:^m' CHOICE. 

• 

had expected of her. The bed remained exactly 
as they had left it. Blanche was in despair, and 
Flora as determined as ever. Bed-time came 
again, and they found themselves obliged to over- 
come their feelings sufficiently to smooth the 
mattrass and arrange the covers, that the bed 
might be made comfortable. A farce similar to 
this was enacted for three days in succession, and 
then our young lady friends were brought to 
realize the fact that they were reduced to the un- 
pleasant necessity of being their own cham- 
bermaids. 

During the morning of the second day of their 
visit they went with their aunt to the store to 
purchase material for their bathing-dresses. Here 
they were introduced, not only to the proprietor 
of the store, but also to Mr. Carter, his clerk, a 
young man wearing a gray suit and striped shirt, 
who waited upon them. A very chatty person he 
was, too, and volunteered a variety of remarks 
upon topics entirely disconnected with his pecu- 
liar line of business. The young ladies tried to 
check this freedom of speech, but in vain. Eye- 
brows were elevated to the highest point of sur- 
prise, and lips were curled into their most dis- 


MRS. GEORGE MORRIS 


75 


dainful expression, but all without producing the 
least effect upon him, so far as they could see. 
Flora at last grew tired of the effort, and being 
naturally talkative herself, was tempted into an- 
swering occasionally ; but Blanche still strove to 
maintain a dignified and contemptuous silence 
until they had left the store. Then her indigna- 
tion, so long pent up, began to look for a vent. 
She had detected a certain something in her aunt, 
which hitherto had exerted a restraining influ- 
ence, and made her rather cautious about express- 
ing her peculiar notions in her presence ; but her 
feelings just now were so strong as to overcome 
this reserve. Blanche was not disposed to be 
passionate, being too indolent for that, but she 
was fretful and complaining, which was quite as 
annoying to her friends. That she was proud, 
vain and self-important to a ridiculous degree, 
you already know. 

^^Who is that young man in the store who 
talks so much, aunt she inquired, by way of 
commencement. 

Frank Carter,’^ replied her aunt ; I thought 
you heard the name when I gave the intro- 
duction.” 


76 


FLORA MORRIS^ CHOICE. 


I heard the name/’ she said, speaking very 
deliberately; ‘^but I wanted to know who he 
was.” 

‘‘ What claim he has to a respectable position 
in society, I suppose you mean ?” her aunt 
questioned. 

Yes, ma’am,” replied Blanche ; “ we are not 
accustomed to meet shopkeepers at home in good 
society.” 

Mrs. Morris did not answer immediately ; she 
seemed to be gathering up all her forces for a 
suitable reply. Then she said : 

want you to understand, Blanche, that 
your uncle and I are responsible for the respect- 
ability of those to whom we introduce you while 
you are our guests. I do not know exactly what 
class of persons you are in the habit of asso- 
ciating with at home. Our standard here may 
differ somewhat from yours; but, you may de- 
pend upon it, it is equally high, and there is not 
the slighest danger to you, either mentally or 
morally, in mixing freely with society in 
Brighton.” 

Flora listened to this speech with surprise. 
She had always connected her aunt’s style of 


MRS. CTEORGE MORRIS. 


77 


dress and living with ignorance and vulgarity, 
but here was certainly a broad exception to the 
general rule which she had laid down. Her aunt 
talked at least like a respectably educated person. 
Blanche, too, felt herself mistaken in the esti- 
mate which she had formed of her antagonist’s 
powers of argument, and regretted that she had 
entered upon the contest ; but it was too late to 
recede, and she must make the boldest stand of 
which she was capable. 

‘‘ I dare say, aunt,” she said, that these may 
be worthy people in their own way ; but then, 
you know, they are entirely different from our 
friends, who are very exclusive and refined, and 
would never think of having on their visiting 
list those who keep small retail stores, and do 
their own work, like Mr. Edmonds, and Mr. 
Carter, and ” 

Here Blanche found herself brought to a 
sudden stand. The additional name could not be 
supplied, as her knowledge of the household 
habits of Brighton only extended to her aunt’s 
own family. In commencing her answer, she con- 
gratulated herself upon her fearlessness and cour- 
age; but all c^se for congratulation was gone 


78 


FLORA MORRIS’^^OICF, 


now, as she walked on, timid and frightened, with 
flashed and averted face, not knowing how to 
proceed. 

The silence, which was growing more and more 
awkward and painful to her, was broken by Mrs. 
Morris. 

‘‘You must excuse me, Blanche,’^ she said, “if 
I am perfectly frank with you in telling truths 
that may seem unkind; and believe me it is for 
your good, and not from a mere desire to hurt 
your feelings. Let me, first of all, advise you not 
to make contemptuous allusions to shopkeepers 
or working-people in this neighborhood. You 
may not perhaps know it, but your grandfather, 
on the father’s side, lived on the same place that 
we now occupy, only in a much smaller house, 
with fewer comforts and no luxuries, his family 
doing their own work, without the help of even one 
servant. Your mother’s father kept a small shop 
at “the Point,” and your mother was his princi- 
pal saleswoman. Now, my dear child, I would 
not tell you this if it were not well known in the 
neighborhood. A display of haughtiness on 
your part might tempt some one to taunt you 


MRS. GEORGE MORRIS. 


79 


with it, and I am anxious to save you from any 
such mortification/’ 

cannot believe it,” said Blanche, her voice 
trembling with excitement. 

Perhaps not,” her aunt answered ; but, my 
dear Blanche, that will not alter the facts in the 
case, nor destroy their effect upon the minds of 
others.” 

She spoke very calmly, for, notwithstanding 
her folly, she deeply pitied Blanche. 

Flora had taken no part in the argument, and 
her first impulse upon hearing the unpleasant 
piece of family history, was to exclaim, with 
Blanche, “I cannot believe it!” but her aunt’s 
calm, sensible answer checked the useless denial, 
and convinced her of the truth of the statement. 
They had now reached home, which ended the 
discussion for the present. Blanche went imme- 
diately to her own room and Flora followed. 

Dear me, Blanche 1” exclaimed the latter, as 
she closed the door, ^Hhis is dreadful news for 
us.” 

I will never submit to it,” repeated Blanche. 

In her extreme mortification she scarcely knew 
what she said. 


80 


FLORA MORRIS' CHOICE. 


“ Do you mean that you will not submit to the 
facts V’ inquired Flora. Well, if refusing to 
submit would alter them, I should agree with 
you. But, unfortunately for us, facts are stubborn 
things, and will remain in the way, however 
much we may rebel against them. I suppose all 
that we can do is to try to hide them where we 
can, and, where we cannot, follow Mr. Longfellow’s 
advice, and ^suifer and be strong.’ ” 

Blanche did not answer. She sat with down- 
cast eyes, busily engaged in tearing small frag- 
ments from the paper in which their bundle was 
wrapped, rolling these into pellets and throwing 
^them upon the floor. 

‘‘O Blanche!” cried Flora, with an affected 
show of petulance, ‘^do please stop scattering 
those things about. I presume paper is very 
hard to sweep up, and you know we are our own 
chambermaids.” 

• 

I believe. Flora Morris, that you have no 
proper pride about you,” replied Blanche, with 
an air of vehemence quite unusual to her. 

Can you tell me, Blanche,” inquired Flora, 
“exactly what quantity and quality of pride 
would be considered proper for the grand- 


MBS. GEORGE MORRIS. 


81 


daughter of a farmer and retail shopkeeper, who 
did their own work 

There was a very comical expression upon her 
face as she put this question* to her sister. The 
state of affairs was assuming a ludicrous form to 
Flora. 

wish you would stop saying such disagree- 
able things to me,’^ replied Blanche, peevishly. I 
will write to mamma, and tell her of the horrible 
stories we have heard, and beg of her to let me 
go home immediately.” 

Just as she had finished speaking, a knock was 
heard at the door, followed by the entrance of 
their father. He had brought some books be- * 
longing to Blanche, which she had placed in his 
charge, as there was not room for them in her 
own trunk, and had merely meant to leave them 
at the door, but upon seeing the disturbed faces 
of his daughters had changed his intentions. 

Flora instantly referred the question to him for 
confirmation, and Blanche waited anxiously for 
his answer. 

“Your aunt’s story is quite true,” he said, 
when he had heard it all ; “and although she has 
left out some things which would have made the 


82 


FLORA MORRIS’ CHOICE. 


facts look even worse to you than they now do, 
still I am surprised that she should have 
mentioned it at all.’’ 

Mr. William Morris rather prided himself 
upon being a self-made man; but his wife’s con- 
tan t effort had been to keep this idea in the back- 
ground, and upon her account he had avoided 
expressing his opinions except when alone with 
his business acquaintance. Now he regretted that 
his sister-in-law had alluded to their humble 
origin, principally because he knew it would only 
serve to increase his wife’s prejudices against her. 

“ I suppose we may blame ourselves for it, papa,’’ 
said Flora; ^Sve were offended at Aunt Mary 
for introdueing us to the storekeeper, Mr. Ed- 
monds, and his clerk, Mr. Carter ; and Blanche 
spoke very indignantly about it; and this was 
what induced her to give us the precious piece of 
family history.” 

“It is never judicious to be haughty, girls,” 
replied their father ; “ and as neither your mother 
nor I have any great cause for boasting on the 
score of ancestry, you should be particularly 
careful. The people here are all pretty much 
upon an equality. There are none either very 


MRS. GEORGE MORRIS. 


83 


rich or very poor, and many of both sexes, who 
work at trades for a living, are the descendants 
of the best families, and consequently very 
respectably connected ; and as there have always 
been unusually good schools at Brighton, its in- 
habitants are generally well educated. Every- 
body knows everybody else, for there is so little 
trade going on that there are no inducements of- 
fered for strangers to take up their abode here. 
I cannot see any reason why even your mother, 
with her peculiar notions on the subject, should 
object to your being friendly with all whom you 
may chance to meet, as it is merely for the time 
being; and when you leave this place your ac- 
quaintance with its people may cease, except, of 
course, so far as your own relations are 
concerned.^’ 

Mr. Morris might have taken a very different 
and much more elevated ground upon which to 
found his reasoning. He might have reminded 
them of the unimportance of all mere worldly 
distinctions when compared with the interests of 
eternity, and moralized upon the fact that out- 
side adornments often hide a corrupt and de- 
praved heart — that very often ‘Hhat which is 


84 


FLORA MORRIS* CHOICE. 


highly esteemed among men is abomination in the 
sight of God/^ He might have gone further and 
warned them, too, of the great sin of indulging 
in pride, showing them from God’s own word 
that he hates pride and arrogance, and will surely 
punish it. But Mr. Morris judged from a much 
lower standard than this. He had never accepted 
the Bible as his own rule of conduct, and was 
not therefore in the habit of quoting its argu- 
ments in support of his opinions. 

I dare say Aunt Mary is no better off than 
we are in respect to family,’’ said Blanche, acting 
upon the principle that misery loves company.” 

You are quite mistaken there, Blanche,” ob- 
served her father ; ‘‘ your aunt’s family belonged 
to what you would call the aristocracy of the 
place. (I do not think the word is ever used here.) 
Plain as she appears to* you, in her youth she 
spent several winters in AYashington, and had 
free access to the best society there. Her father 
was a member of Congress for more than one 
term, and was a man of some note in his time. 
By-the-by, Mr. Norton, the brother of Mrs. Ed- 
monds, is the present member from this district. 
So you see it will not do to judge of folks here 


MRS. aSORGR MORRIS. 


85 


by the rules which we use at home j and I do 
hope you will both act prudently during your 
visit, and not do anything that will make you 
ridiculous/^ 

With this fatherly caution he left them, and 
Flora turned to her sister. 

Well, Blanche,^’ she said, ^^thig is all very 
queer. Wonders will never cease! Just to think 
of those magnificent Grampions being spurious, 
and Aunt Mary and Mrs. Edmonds being real ! 
I am twisted around completely. I should like 
very much to know to what set we belong here in 
Brighton; shouldn't you, Blanche 

But Blanche was in no humor to be amused. 

do not think,^’ she answered, evasively, 
that family is of much account, after all. One 
ought not to be held responsible for one^s grand- 
father; and people should be admitted to good 
society upon their own personal merits, which are 
certainly of most importance.” 

Blanche was right this time in her conclusion, 
though wrong in her premises. When the proud 
Jews boasted of having Abraham as their father, 
John gave them to understand that this was a 
matter of small importance in the sight of God, 


80 


FLORA MORRIS^ CHOICE. 


who could SO easily from the very stones raise up 
those who should so nearly resemble Abraham as 
to represent him more truly than his degenerate 
children. So now a spotless record of our own 
is of far more consequence to us than the highest 
ancestry. 

Why, Blanche,” retorted Flora, with a quiz- 
zical expression, ^^that last remark of yours 
would suit the Grampions exactly.” 

‘‘My remark had no connection whatever with 
the Grampions,” returned Blanche. 

There was silence for a few moments, and then 
Flora, with an assumed air of solemnity, 
inquired, 

“Would you like to know what I intend to do 
in this fearful emergency?” 

Blanche nodded assent, and Flora continued : 

“I am going to try as far as possible to forget 
that I am a fashionable young lady from the city, 
and to act like the grand-daughter of a farmer 
and a shopkeeper.” 

Blanche looked quite horrified. 

“Flora,” she said, with a solemnity that was 
not assumed, “I do not know what mamma will 
say if you return vulgar and countrified.” 


MRS. GEORGE MORRIS. 


87 


Never fear,’’ replied Flora; shall tell her 
that I have been trying!* to cnpy the manners of 
my honored ancestry, and then I am sure she can 
make no objection.” 

The dinner bell sounded, and our young friends 
obeyed its call. Their uncle was to drive them 
out in a different direction on this afternoon, but 
Willie again refused to accompany them. He 
was going with his cousin John and Nero upon a 
fishing excursion. 

^^And, Flora,” he said, Cousin John says that 
when Pierrepont comes home I can go nearly 
every day fishing or boating. Cousin Pierrepont 
is very fond of both, and will not be so busy as 
John, because he is not a farmer; but yet I 
hardly know whether I shall like it entirely, for 
I am very fond of farm-work. O Flora,” he 
continued with increasing enthusiasm, am 
having a splendid time! Aren’t you? Cousin 
John is a trump, and so is Nero, and Lucy, and 
uncle, and aunt, and everybody at Brighton. I 
hope Pierrepont will be, too, but yet I do not 
know;” and Willie shook his head very doubt- 
fully. 

^'Why, what is the matter with Pierrepont?” 


88 


FLORA MORRIS’ CHOICE. 


inquired Flora. From the way in which the 
people here talk about him, I supposed he must 
be the embodiment of perfection. His return 
from college appears to be looked forward to as a 
grand occasion.” 

Oh yes, they are all very fond of him, and I 
suppose he is good enough in his way ; but then,” 
he added, lowering his voice, John says that he 
is very religious and is learning to be a preacher. 
Still, if he knows how to fish and row a boat, it 
may not be so bad after all.” 

Flora suppressed a scream. Here was a new 
course of annoyance for poor Blanche — the pros- 
pect of living in the same house with a candidate 
for clerical orders. 

Willie ran hastily across the fields to fulfill his 
engagement with John, and his sister looked after 
him with an amused consciousness that he at least 
inherited bis grandfather’s tastes, and then went 
to her room to get ready for the ride, and tell 
Blanche what she had heard about Pierrepont. 

When the party returned from their ride they 
found Mrs. Morris entertaining vfsitors, who had 
called principally out of compliment to the 
strangers. Blanche held back from unwilling- 


MRS. GEORGE MORRIS. 


ness to meet them, but Flora urged her forward, 
whisperings— 

Never mind, Blanche, we are having a grand 
opportunity to examine into the various phases of 
human nature/’ «. 

The inducement offered was scarcely appreciated 
by Blanche, yet she followed her sister into the 
parlor, knowing that there was no help for it* 
There was but one phase of human nature whose 
study was interesting to her; it was that which 
appeared dressed in purple and fine linen, and 
fared sumptuously every day. 



CHAPTER VI. 


A SABBATS AT BJtIGHTOK. 

first Sabbath which Blanche and 
1^1 Flora spent at Brighton was a most de- 
lightful day, so far as the weather was 
concerned. In the great city which they 
had left the air was no doubt warm and 
uncomfortable, coming as it did to the inhabit- 
ants freighted with unpleasant odors, gathered in 
its passage through courts and alleys where 
human beings congregated in one dense and un- 
wholesome mass. But here, where the cool sea- 
breeze swept freely over the the broad Atlantic, 
or across grassy fields and through leafy trees, it 
was pure and refreshing. The weather was cer- 
tainly beyond complaint, and yet . the young 
ladies arose from their bed with uneasy fore- 
bodings. 

^^Ah, Blanche!’’ sighed Flora, ‘‘I do wonder 
how we shall manage to get through the day? 

90 


A SABBATjB: at BRIGHTON. 


91 


At home our Sundays were not so very tedious, 
after all, because we had so much to see at 
church. The sermons, to be sure, were very prosy, 
but then they never lasted over a half hour, and 
it required nearly that much time to look over 
the congregation. Professor Ricardo, too, gives 
us such splendid music, and after the services are 
over we see all our friends, and can talk about 
everything.^’ 

There is one thing,” replied Blanche, philoso- 
phically — ^^as it will only be for this once, I think 
we shall be able to endure it. I have written 
such a letter to mamma that I am pretty sure she 
will be induced to send for us to return home 
before another week is over. I tried papa, but 
he is incorrigible, on account of his strong preju- 
dice in favor of these people. Mamma has more 
correct notions, and she must see the impossibil- 
ity of our remaining shut up here for two whole 
months.” 

Flora appeared to be very much engaged just 
then in deciding which of two collars she should 
wear at breakfast, and returned no answer. The 
fact was, that, to her great surprise. Flora found 
that her feelings were not in sympathy with her 


92 


FLonA Monnm* csoics. 


sister^s. She began to doubt whether she really 
desired to return home so soon. She felt some 
curiosity to see her cousin Pierrepont, about 
whom she had already heard so much; and there 
was a gipsying party to come otf in a week or 
two, which she would like to attend. Then, too, 
although she was scarcely conscious of it, there 
were feelings of respect and atfection springing up 
in her heart towards these long* neglected rela- 
tions, which made her desirous of knowing them 
better, they were so entirely different from 
those with whom she had been accustomed to as- 
sociate; and the views which seemed to govern 
their conduct, although very peculiar, were 
certainly of a much higher grade than those 
which she had been in the habit of hearing ex- 
pressed. These thoughts passed rapidly through 
her brain ; yet, scarcely comprehending them her- 
self, she did not care to confide them to Blanche, 
who, she well knew, would not be able to appre- 
ciate them. So she remained, silently and me- 
chanically turning over one collar after another, 
as if in profound meditation upon its claim for 
preference, until the ringing" of the second bell 
aroused her. Then, hurriedly selecting the one 


A £/AB£A7'ir AT BRIGHTON. 


93 


which just then happened to be nearest to her 
hand, she put it on hastily and went down 
stairs. 

Prayers and breakfast passed pretty much as 
usual, only in the former petitions were offered 
with special reference to the sacred day, and 
during the latter the conversation turned princi- 
pally upon matters pertaining to the church ; and 
Flora noticed, when her father began to talk of 
something connected with the farm, that her uncle 
very dexterously changed the subject by asking 
some question about the meetings of the church 
which they attended in the city. Her father, 
being but poorly posted up in church affairs, could 
not answer very intelligently; but her uncle 
gained his object, and secular subjects were drop- 
ped for the present. 

The first bell for church rang at ten o’clock as 
a warning, and the services did not commence 
until a half hour later. The second sounded out 
musically a few minutes before church-time, and 
while they were on the way to church. The wide 
street of the village, which through the week had 
looked so quiet, and at times almost deserted, was 
now full of life and motion. Group after group 


94 


FLORA MORRIS' CHOICE. 


of men, women and children walked sedately upon 
the sidewalk; while through the middle of the 
street vehicles of nearly every description, from 
the neat family carriage, newly painted and 
varnished, to the rough farm cart, passed rapidly 
along in quick succession. All seemed to be 
moving in the same direction, drawn towards the 
same point by some invisible, but powerful 
agency. 

Although having no religious appreciation of 
this scene, yet Flora was attracted by it, as to a 
pleasing picture, and remarked upon it to her 
uncle, with whom she happened to be walking. 

^^It is certainly a very beautiful, and to me 
inspiring sight,” he replied; “and in looking at 
it I am always inclined to exclaim with the 
Psalmist, ^How amiable are thy tabernacles, O 
Lord of hosts ! My soul longeth, yea, even 
fainteth, for the courts of the Lord : my heart and 
my flesh crieth out for the living God. Blessed 
are they that dwell in Thy house; they will still 
be praising Thee. They go from strength to 
strength; every one of them in Zion appeareth 
before God. For a day in Thy courts is better 
than a thousand. I had rather be a doorkeeper 


A SABBATH AT BRIGHTON. 


95 


in tlie house of my God tlian to dwell in the 
tents of wickedness.’ ” 

Flora looked up into her uncle’s face in amaze- 
ment. This was all a new and strange language 
to her, which she could not understand ; and yet 
one glance at his countenance, so serious in its ex- 
pression, was sufficient to convince her that he 
felt the full force of every word that he had 
uttered. There is that in the human heart 
which will always respond to real, earnest enthu- 
siasm, even where the mind may not be capable 
of appreciating the principles which inspire it; 
so now Flora walked silently forward, under the 
influence of a sensation whose power she saw, 
but could not comprehend. Surely,” she 
reasoned, “ there must be something more in re- 
ligion than I supposed. It cannot be mere de- 
lusion or gloomy asceticism.” 

A feeling of reverence for her uncle arose in 
her heart, as for one far exalted above the petty 
cares of this earth — passing through the world, but 
never turning aside after its vanities, keeping the 
straight road to heaven. As she ascended the 
church steps it almost seemed as if she were 
trcadinguipon holy ground ; and when Mrs. Ed- 


96 


FLORA MORRIS* CHOICE, 


nionds spoke to her she returned the greeting 
with an unusual degree of respect, such as she 
might have shown towards the descendant of a 
race of kings. To be the daughter of a clergy- 
man who preached such principles as those that 
inspired her uncle George, seemed just then to 
Flora a greater distinction than even royal an- 
cestry could confer. She trode softly along the 
aisle, and entered the pew as one who walks in a 
dream; and, alas! this all proved to be but an 
illusive dream to her. She raised her eyes, and 
the sight of a very antique bonnet worn by an 
old lady in an adjoining seat was sufficient to 
turn the whole current of her thoughts. A gen- 
eral survey of the costume of the entire congre- 
gation, so far as she could see them, ensued, and 
the battery of her criticism was brought to bear 
upon them. Bonnets and mantillas were con- 
demned unmercifully, and their wearers pro- 
nounced uncultivated and rude, simply because 
these outward habiliments did not accord with 
the taste of the critic. A feeling of self-gratu- 
lation took possession of her that her lot had not 
been cast among such a people. 

The clergyman arose for prayer, and the con- 


A SA£BATir AT BRIGHTON. 


97 


gregation simultaneously followed his example. 
The prayer was short, only containing a few 
fervent petitions that the Lord would be present 
with his people and bless the services in which 
they were about to engage. A hyjiin followed, 
sung not by the choir merely, but by the entire as- 
sembly. Then came the reading of the Scriptures, 
and then another prayer, much longer than the 
first, and more diversified in its petitions. 
•Throughout these exercises Flora’s mind was 
crowded with- a curious medley of contradictory 
emotions. Now she was admiring the calm, in- 
tellectual countenance of the clergyman, his clear 
tones and serious manner, all so exceedingly 
appropriate to his high position. Involuntarily 
she found herself repeating Goldsmith’s well- 
known description of the village pastor : 

“At church with meek and unaffected grace, 

His looks adorn the venerable place. 

His ready smile a parent’s warmth exprest ; 

Their welfare pleased him and their cares distrest; 

To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given. 

But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven — 

As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form, 

Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm ; 

7 


98 


FLORA MORRIS’ CHOICE. 


Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread. 
Eternal sunshine settles on its head.” 

The next moment she was contemptuously ridi- 
culing the dresses of a woman and her children 
in one of the side pews near the pulpit. They 
had been gotten up, evidently after much effort, 
with the desire of making as genteel an appear- 
ance as possible. The mother’s entire outfit 
could not have cost originally as much as Flora’s 
hat; and now, after each article had been made 
over several times, the young lady regarded the 
attempt as a complete failure. Once more, at- 
tracted by the musical tones of the clergyman or 
some striking words from the chapter that he was 
reading, she would listen to a few verses. Then, 
again, she would occupy her mind by contrasting 
the gorgeous embellishments of the church which 
she was accustomed to attend at home with the 
plain, inexpensive structure in which she now 
sat; the extravagantly attired audience in the 
city with the economical garb of those around 
her; and always very much to the disparagement 
of the latter. Her imagination seemed to have 
place for every variety of thought but one — the 
correct and proper feeling, and that alone, which 


A sajb:bat^ at Brighton. 


99 


she had a right to cherish in the house of God.” 
To judge from the manner in which she had been 
occupied, one might suppose that she was in 
some hall erected for the express purpose of ex- 
hibiting the most elegant specimens of each arti- 
cle of clothing that could be procured, and that 
all who failed in this were entitled to the sharpest 
criticism and deepest censure of the observers. 
Not once did it occur to her that this was the 
sanctuary of the Lord, built only for His worship, 
whose walls she had no right to enter except 
in the character of a humble worshiper of Him 
who is to be worshiped in spirit and in truth, who 
is greatly to be feared in the assembly of the 
saints, and to be had in reverence of all them 
that are about Him.” 

The minister read out his text: ‘^This one 
thing I do; forgetting those things that are behind, 
and reaching forth unto those things that are 
before, I press toward the mark for the prize of 
the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.” The 
words sounded entirely new and strange in her 
ears. She might possibly have heard them 
before, but if so they had not left even the 
faintest impression upon her memory. He pro- 


100 


FLORA MORRIS' CHOIPE. 


ceeded with his explanation, describing the great 
apostle, surrounded by a crooked and perverse 
generation, going steadily forward, with one great 
purpose in view. Ignoring entirely all those 
things which men are constantly striving after as 
the grand objects of pursuit, he never attempted 
to draw the world and religion together, in a vain 
effort to secure both; never seeking to obtain 
wealth and salvation — earthly honor here and 
a heavenly crown hereafter ; having but one 
object, one aim, one great purpose of life ; ac- 
quiring on this account extraordinary attainments 
in piety, and uncommon success as a minister of 
the gospel. 

As she listened to his eloquent description, her 
heart went out enthusiastically, not only towards 
Paul and Mr. Lambert, the speaker, but also to 
all who were treading the same glorious path. 
She looked up at her uncle’s broad, white brow — 
so markedly white in contrast with the lower 
portion of the face, bronzed by exposure to sun 
and wind — and in her imagination it almost 
seemed as if a peculiar halo were resting upon it 
— an outward token, such as the Saviour might 
choose to put upon his faithful followers. Then, 


A SABBATB" AT BRIGHTOK 101 

turning her eyes to Lucy’s calm, sweet counte- 
nance, she thought it would require but a very 
slight touch of fancy’s penciling to invest it with 
such an expression as an angel might be supposed 
to wear. 

But when Mr. Lambert went on to make a 
personal application of the text, and urged upon 
his hearers the duty and necessity of following 
the example of the apostle, if they would secure 
the heavenly prize, resolutely renouncing every- 
thing that might stand in their way, and making 
this the one great object of their lives, there was 
no response in her bosom. She sat perfectly un- 
moved and unconcerned, as if the matter were 
one in which she had no interest, or as if her 
ears were deaf or her mind incapable of per- 
ception. 

Once in ancient times there was a prophet 
full of worldly ambition and governed only by 
sordid motives. He stood upon an elevation and 
looked ovelr the promised land and upon God’s 
favored people, and inspired by an involuntary 
admiration, called forth by the beauty and ex- 
cellency of their land, he exclaimed, ^^How 
goodly are thy tents, O Jacob, and thy tabernacles, 


102 


FLORA MORRIS^ CHOICE. 


O Israel ! As the valleys are they spread forth, as 
gardens by the river’s side, as the trees of lign 
aloes, which the Lord hath planted, and ag cedar 
trees besides the waters. Blessed is He that 
blesseth Thee, and cursed is He that curseth 
Thee.” ^^Let me die the death of the righteous, 
and let my last end be like his.” But, unfortu- 
nately for himself, his enthusiasm expended 
itself in mere expressions of admiration, power- 
less in themselves for good. They effected no 
material change in his character or habits, nor 
did they lead him to pursue that course through 
which alone he might hope to obtain the blessing 
which he professed to covet. And now Flora 
Morris was indulging in a somewhat similar ad- 
miration. She could see the beauty of a con- 
sistent religious profession in others, but she had 
no idea of adopting it for herself, although she 
would gladly claim its privileges and rewards. 
In a very short time the prophet died in battle, 
among the enemies of those w^hom he had pro- 
fessed to admire — a sad illustration of the use- 
lessness of mere words. In Flora’s heart, too, a 
battle was waging, and she was taking part 
against the good cause. But the warfare was not 


A SABJBATir AT BRIGHTON. 


103 


ended, and although exposed to imminent dan- 
ger, yet, through the mercy of God, there was 
still hope for her. 

While Florals thoughts were thus busy, 
Blanche was indulging in a very different, though 
quite as varied, train of ideas. She did not hear 
one word of the text, and Mr. Lambert^s eloquent 
descriptions were quite lost upon her. Now she 
was mourning over the fate which compelled 
her to associate even for a few days with such 
plain, unfashionable people ; and then she was re- 
joicing over the prospect of a deliverance, in 
answer to the appealing letter which she had 
written to her mother. In the light of this hope 
she drew pictures of a pleasant career for the 
summer in the old haunts and among her gay 
acquaintances, until her present surroundings 
were lost sight of, and she was already in quite a 
different circle. Again, suddenly, she would be 
brought back to reality by a glimpse of some 
garment particularly offensive to her ideas of 
good taste, when all her disgust and contempt 
would return, and a frown settled upon her 
features. 

And yet this time so carelessly frittered away, 


104 


FLORA MORRIS^ CHOICE. 


and these holy teachings so utterly neglected, weres 
not lost. God has said of his word, ‘^It shall 
not return unto me void; but it shall accomplish 
that which I please, and it shall prosper in the 
thing whereunto I have sent it.’’ There were 
those in the house who listened eagerly to the 
sermon, and drew spiritual strength and courage 
from it to press onward in the good path which 
they had already chosen. And some who had 
run well for a season, but whose zeal had died out 
and who had almost fainted by the road, received 
new vigor to pursue their way with songs of re- 
joicing. Nor was it to these alone that the word 
was blessed. One timid soul had entered the 
sanctuary, halting between two opinions — anxious 
to reach heaven, yet unwilling to let go of the 
world (for even the world as it existed in 
Brighton had its enchantments and temptations) — 
wishing to serve God and offer incense upon the 
shrine of Mammon. This poor, feeble soul, in 
danger of being eternally lost, listened attentively 
to the stirring words of the preacher, and was 
persuaded by them to abandon the useless effort, 
and to resolve in the strength of the Lord to 
follow the example of the great apostle, and 


A ;SfA£^ATir AT BRIGHTON. 


105 


with singleness of heart press towards the mark 
for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ 
J esus.’^ 

The morning services ended, and upon the por- 
tico and lawn in front of the church were many 
friendly greetings exchanged and kind inquiries 
made after absentees. None seem#d to be for- 
gotten; and Flora, wdio had joined Lucy, won- 
dered how it was possible in so large a congrega- 
tion, where there were so few vacant seats, to 
notice who happened to be away. She called 
upon Lucy to account for this, and Lucy smiled 
as she answered, 

. ^^Why, Cousin Flora, we are all acquainted 
here and interested in each other, and when this 
is the case one is apt to be very observant.’^ 

But you do not pretend to tell me,” said Flora, 
“ that you really care for that coarse-looking man, 
or any one of his dozen children ?” 

‘^Certainly, I do,” Lucy replied, her voice 
slightly raised, and her heightened color betray- 
ing some excitement. wish you would not 

judge from appearance. Cousin Flora. Indeed it 
is hardly fair to do so, for one is not altogether 
accountable for that. Mr. Adams is one of our 


106 


FLORA MORRIS' CHOICE. 


very best men. He is excellent in a prayer- 
meeting, and very highly esteemed in Brighton.’’ 

Flora’s eyes were extended once more to their 
full width. It was the first time she had ever 
heard a man’s merits to distinction founded upon 
his ability to conduct a prayer-meeting; and she 
was wondering upon what footing their acquaint- 
ances at home would stand in Brighton. But 
Lucy did not notice the effect of her words, and 
went on in her simple way: 

‘‘His children, too, are all remarkably intelli- 
gent and interesting. The sick one seems partic- 
ularly so to me, and she is a member of my 
Sunday-school class. But, by-the-way. Flora, it 
is just as well to be correct with regard to num- 
bers. Mr. Adams’ family consists of seven chil- 
dren, including the absentee.” 

“Indeed!” exclaimed Flora, in feigned sur- 
prise this time. “Only six present this morning! 
Well, they must have a wonderful faculty at 
spreading themselves. But pray tell me, Lucy, 
what occupation does your friend, Mr. Adams, 
follow?” 

The question had scarcely left her lips when 
she remembered her aunt’s lesson of the previous 


A BABBATn AT BRIGHTON. 107 

day, and would have gladly recalled it if she 
could. 

‘^His principal business is fishing/’ Lucy 
answered ; but when not engaged in this way, he 
has quite a variety of trades, and is willing to 
employ his time in any way that is needed. In- 
deed, he is one of the most valuable and useful 
men that we have, and I hardly know how we 
should get along without him.” 

This was a new light in which to regard one in 
Mr. Adams’ station in life. Flora had heard the 
laboring classes spoken of as the plagues of so- 
ciety and necessary evils, but never before in her 
presence had the least allusion been made to their 
usefulness or value in the community. She re- 
mained silently considering the matter until they 
had reached her uncle’s door. A lunch was very 
soon prepared for them, and when it was over, 
the family commenced making arrangements to 
return to the second church service, which was to 
be held at one o’clock. 

Blanche resolutely refused to go, declaring pri- 
vately to her sister that it was perfectly prepos- 
terous and not to be thought of for a moment — 
that she had quite enough of church-going for 


108 


FLORA MORRIS* CEOICF, 


one day, and meant to take a nap and finish her 
novel in the afternoon. I am sorry to say that 
her father was of the same opinion ; at least so far 
as to prefer a nap to Mr. Lambert’s sermon. So 
these two retired to their rooms. 

Flora was extremely fond of novelty, and her 
curiosity was now fully aroused to know some- 
thing more of the habits of this peculiar people, 
among whom for a season her lot had been cast. 
There was no timidity about her ; so she boldly 
announced her intention of accompanying her 
cousin Lucy to church and Sunday-school, held 
immediately after the church service. Willie, too, 
was going, for his cousin John had invited him, 
and he was easily influenced by those whom he 
fancied. John had a Sunday-school class, too, 
which Willie thought he would like to attend, 
and become acquainted with the boys in the place. 
In fact, Willie had formed a violent attachment to 
Brighton and its inhabitants, declaring the latter 
to be a most sensible sort of people, with no non- 
sense about them, and he showed his appreciation 
by trying to identify himself with them as far as 
he could. 

‘‘I am glad you are going, Floy,” he said. 


A SAJBBATir AT BRIGHTON. 


109 


aside to his sister ; the sermon is a bore, and the 
church is rather slow ; but the folks here are all 
so nice that I like to please them; and then I dare 
say the Sunday-school will be first-rate. Besides,” 
he added, it seems only right when we are visit- 
ing to try to do as the people do.” 

Willie was not remarkable either for his re- 
finement of manner or expression ; but his affec- 
tion for these relations had taught him a principle 
upon which are founded many of the rules which 
should regulate our conduct when we are away 
from home — to endeavor, as far as possible, to 
conform to the laws of the household which we 
enter upon the terms of a visitor, and to use every 
effort to make those around us comfortable and 
happy. 

The text in the afternoon was, Turn ye, turn 
ye from your evil ways, for why will ye die ?” 
The preacher compared the two classes : those who 
were striving to follow the example of Paul in 
pressing towards the mark, and those who were 
walking in an entirely different direction, and 
upon a road that could only end in death ; warn- 
ing the latter to accept the offered invitation and 
turn from the evil way before it should be too 


no 


FLORA MORRIS^ CHOICE. 


late. The sermon was very solemn, and produced 
an impression even upon the mind of the inat- 
tentive Flora. But, unfortunately, such impres- 
sions are not always lasting. Religion looked 
very beautiful to her as seen in her cousin Lucy, 
but she had not yet made up her mind to choose 
it for herself. All her past education and train- 
ing had had but one object — to make her shine in 
fashionable life ; and to gain this end large sums 
of money had been expended. How could she 
then do that which would render these efforts 
useless, or worse than useless, and disappoint all 
her mother’s expectations? So she resolved to go 
on and accomplish the plans laid out for her. 
She would enter the gay world, and do her best 
to shine there as a brilliant star; and then, in a 
few years, when her light should grow dim, or she 
should have wearied of gayety, as must happen 
in the course of time, she would retire from the 
world, perhaps into some quiet country place like 
Brighton, and become a sort of Lady Bountiful in 
the neighborhood. She could not exactly make 
up her mind to follow Lucy’s example, in asso- 
ciating, upon terms of equality, with working- 
people; but she would patronize them with gen- 


A SABBATJT AT BRIGHTON. 


Ill 


tleness and dignity, looking kindly after their 
wants, yet keeping them at a proper distance. 
Flora was still too slightly acquainted with 
Brighton to understand the state of society there. 
She learned afterwards that Mr. Adams and the 
class which he represented were fully competent 
to supply the wants of their own households, and 
as they did not require such patronage as she pro- 
posed giving, would probably have regarded it 
only in the light of an impertinent interference if 
it had been attempted. 

Flora’s world was divided into two classes — the 
rich and the poor, the latter being in all respects 
subordinate to the former. She had no idea that 
what she called poverty might sometimes be more 
respectable and more desirable than wealth, and 
that there were men in Brighton, toiling for their 
daily bread, who would not willingly change 
places with the richest of her city acquaintance, 
knowing themselves to be possessed of an inherit- 
ance far more valuable than all the earthly 
treasures of which the great city could boast. So 
in her ignorance Flora dreamed on, indulging in 
idle fancies of wonderful acts of kindness which 
could never be accomplished, and carelessly letting 


112 


FLORA MORRIS' CHOICE. 


slip a golden opportunity of acquiring a present 
good. 

The clergyman ended his sermon, and the 
pause put a sudden stop to Flora’s wild imagin- 
ings. A short prayer was offered, followed by 
the singing of the hymn and the benediction, and 
then the congregation was dismissed, some to 
their homes and others to the Sunday-school. 
Flora, according to previous intentions, took her 
place with the latter. Her uncle was superin- 
tendent of the school, and her aunt and cousins 
were teachers. Lucy had charge of the infant 
department, and at her request Flora heard two 
of the little girls recite hymns and a few verses 
from the Bible. The school hour passed very 
pleasantly to all, and I trust profitably to many, 
and then teachers and pupils separated. Again 
there were exchanges of smiles and greetings 
and kind inquiries, and Flora’s hand almost 
ached from the heartiness with which it was 
grasped as she was introduced to her uncle’s 
friends. One vehicle after another drove up to 
the door and received its occupants, and then 
gave place to its successor. A responsive chord 
had been struck in Flora’s breast, and in her esti- 


A ^ABBATJT AT BRIGHTON. 113 

mation at that moment all the mere polish of 
fashionable society dwindled into insignificance in 
comparison with this plain, hearty friendliness of 
manner. With these new views she felt no desire 
to criticise, and dresses and bonnets which ordi- 
narily would have been considered fit objects for 
the display of her powers of wit and sarcasm 
were now scarcely noticed. She walked silently 
beside her cousin for a while, and then, re- 
membering a question which she had intended to 
ask, she inquired why the church meetings so 
closely succeeded each other. 

‘^Because,” replied Lucy, ^‘so many of our 
church people live at a distance that they would 
not have time to drive home after the first service 
and back to the second if we held our meetings 
at the hours they do in the city. As it is, they 
bring a lunch with them, and remain for the in- 
tervening time, which saves a great deal of 
trouble.’’ 

Then Flora had other questions to ask about 
the Sunday-school children and several of the 
grown people in whom she felt an interest; for, 
notwithstanding the unfashionable garb, there 
were some of those whom she had seen who were 


114 


FLORA MORRIS^ CHOICE. 


really remarkable for regularity of features, and 
upon the whole she thought that she had never 
seen among so large an assembly so few homely 
faces. 

Upon reaching home Flora found Blanche fast 
asleep upon the bed, with the novel open in her 
hand; and feeling rather drowsy from the un- 
usual exertions she had been making, she con- 
cluded to put on her wrapper and lie down beside 
her. At the recommendation of Lucy, she had 
brought from the Sunday-school library Abbott’s 
“Hoary Head and McDonner,” and she con- 
cluded to pass the time, before going to sleep, in 
reading the story of Fergus. Although quite in- 
terested in this, her eyes gradually closed, and she 
fell asleep, leaving Fergus upon the pond, still 
struggling through the snow-drift. She was 
aroused from her slumbers by Blanche, who, 
having awakened, was opening a bureau drawer 
to select some articles suitable for her evening 
toilet. 

It required several rubbings of the eyes and 
some little effort of the memory to enable Flora 
to recall the place she was in, the time and the 
circumstances. She had been dreaming that she 


A SABJSATJI AT BRIGHTON. 


115 


was at Newport and that Blanche was dressing 
for a party; and this impression was upon her 
mind when she awakened. A feeling of disap- 
pointment oppressed her, similar to what one 
might experience who, in the midst of some in- 
teresting narrative, finds that the most important 
leaves are missing, and that the story is brought 
to a sudden and untimely end. Then, as the 
truth gradually came upon her, she felt relieved, 
and the conviction forced itself upon her that, 
with all its disadvantages and privations, she 
would prefer remaining at Brighton. 

Blanche, in the mean time, went on complaining 
of the tiresome day which she had spent. Sunday 
at home was not altogether agreeable, yet it had 
its alleviations; but Sunday at Brighton was un- 
endurable. Then she would try to draw comfort 
from the hope of receiving the next day from her 
mother a favorable answer to her last letter; and 
80 the afternoon passed away. 

There were services held in the evening at the 
Brighton church, which were attended by all the 
men^bers of the family, not even excepting 
Blanche, who went because there was no alterna- 
tive but that of remaining at home alone. Mr. 


116 


FLORA MORRIS* CHOICE. 


Lambert preached a faithful sermon, which, I am 
sorry to say, was lost upon both the sisters. 
Blanche, in her ill-humor, seemed determined to 
be neither benefited nor pleased by anything in 
Brighton; and Flora, in her folly, spent the 
sacred hour in the indulgence of vain fancies, and 
heard nothing of the sermon but an occasional 
word or sentence, which failed to make any im- 
pression upon her mind. 





CHAPTER VI!. 



STUjL JlT BRIGHTON. 

*HE Brighton mail of Monday brought to 
Blanche the anxiously-expected answer 
to her letter. She opened the envelope 
hastily and eagerly, but found herself 
doomed to another disappointment. Her 
proposal to return home had been negatived by 
her mother with her usual promptitude and deci- 
sion, as an extract from the letter will suffici- 
ently show: 

^‘The arrangements made,’’ she wrote, ^‘were 
the very best that could be done for you this 
summer, and cannot be altered. With regard to 
the family secrets which your aunt saw fit to im- 
part to you, I can only say that it may, after all, 
be just as well for you to have learned them in 
this way. If she had not told you, there were 
others who would have done so, for it is scarcely 
possible for you to have remained in Brighton 

117 


118 


FLORA MORRIS^ CHOICE. 


for any length of time without hearing of them. 
Such knowledge is not agreeable, but it may not 
be quite useless, for allusibns may be made which 
you will understand better how to meet, now that 
you know everything. By the way, this is one 
reason why I have always objected to your visit- 
ing in your uncle’s family, and necessity alone in- 
duced me to consent to it for this summer. Of 
course, you must remember your aunt’s story 
while you are at Brighton, but you may ignore 
it entirely when you return home. In the city, 
whatever may be said to the contrary, people 
make their own positions in society, and stand 
upon their own merits, irrespective of what their 
fathers may have done. There are many who 
visit in the very best circles, and whose riglit to 
do so is never questioned, whose ancestors were 
no better oif than your own. I am sorry if you 
are not satisfied, but we cannot change our plans. 
There is one great advantage in your remaining 
where you are, which you may not appreciate, 
but which is nevertheless real. A quiet summer, 
such as you are now passing, will enable you to 
enjoy the gayeties of the winter more thoroughly, 
besides preserving your good looks. Next sum- 


STILL AT BULGE TON. 


119 


mer I hope we shall be able to take you both with 
us as usual, and at your ages one season is not of 
much consequence.’^ 

Poor Mrs. Morris! What a chapter of mis- 
takes are contained in those few lines! And 
what a sermon might be written upon that last 
sentence! Just at the age when the most lasting 
impressions are made — when seed, whether for 
good or evil, is sown to ripen in eternity, with 
life so uncertain that it would be presumption to 
call one hour their own ! Strange infatuation, to 
talk of a season at such an age as this as being 
of no consequence! Alas! from just such in eter- 
nity has the bitter cry gone up, “ The harvest is 
past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved.” 

Blanche read her mother’s words, but failed to 
moralize upon them as we have done. They 
were far from satisfactory to her, and she, too, 
took exception to them, but for very xlifferent 
reasons. The season was of very great conse- 
quence in her estimation, but only because of the 
amount of present pleasure it might contain for 
her. She went on carefully reading every word 
until the end, still hoping that at the last her 
mother might relent — ^that she would find a post- 


120 


FLORA MORRIS* CHOICE. 


script to that purport. But in vain. There were 
one or two small items of unimportant news on 
the last page, and some general advice for herself 
and sister, and that was all. She finished the 
final line, and then, throwing the letter upon the 
floor, burst into tears. Flora was avStonished. 
Constant fretting had , become a habit with 
Blanche, but a good spell of crying was an un- 
usual exhibition. 

^‘Has anything happened? Is mother sick?’^ 
she inquired, breathlessly. 

No,’’ replied Blanche, pointing to the letter. 

Flora understood the signal as an invitation 
for her to read for herself, and being really con- 
cerned, she hastily picked up the letter, anxious 
to learn its contents. While endeavoring to do so 
the tongue of Blanche became loosened, and 
poured forth a mingled tide of reproach against 
her mother, father, her aunt and uncle, and all 
Brighton generally. 

As you already know, my young reader, the 
substance of the letter was upon the whole satis- 
factory to Flora; and, having no grief of her 
own to overwhelm her, she turned to comfort her 
sister. 


STILL AT BRIGHTON. 


121 


^^Oh! never mind, Blanche, dear,” she said; 
^^you will get used to things here after a while; 
and then, you know, the holidays cannot Ijust 
for ever. We must be back in the city by the 
middle of September at the farthest.” 

But Blanche was in no mood to be comforted. 
Her mind was too deeply absorbed by present 
disappointment to look forward to what the future 
might bring. Flora went on : 

And then, Blanche, you must remember that, 
after all, even fashionable watering-places have 
their annoyances and disappointments. There 
were those Yanderpools who treated us so shame- 
fully at Newport. Before their own carriage 
came they could be very gracious indeed to get 
the use of ours, and then, when they did not need 
us any longer, they did not hesitate to give us the 
dead cut. And those haughty Roscoes at Saratoga 
were very sociable with us while it suited their 
purpose, and then, when others came whom they 
thought more aristocratic, they would scarcely 
condescend to speak to us. Such everlasting 
gossiping, too, as we had all the time! No 
one was safe from scandal; and we were con- 
stantly hearing such bitter things said about 


122 


FLORA MORRIS* CHOICE. 


people that I felt afraid to trust anybody. Then 
how completely fagged out we used to get, dress- 
ing up for the hops and balls! What with hair- 
dressers and mantuaraakers, one was worn out 
before the evening came. * To be sure, it was all 
very nice in the ball-room when everything went 
right, but generally things seemed more apt to go 
wrong than right. Then, when the bills came in, 
what a fearful time we used to have! The charge 
for everything was so .exorbitant, and papa was so 
cross about it, that I used to think if I were 
mamma I would never go in debt for the least 
thing. And now, when I remember what a toil- 
some time we had of it all summer, I sometimes 
wonder whether the farm-hands here are any 
more tired than we used to be.^’ 

But Blanche could not be brought to look at 
matters with Florals eyes. Her grief became less 
noisy, but was scarcely alleviated. Of course she 
must submit to circumstances which she could 
not alter, but this did not make them any the 
less disagreeable. ■ 

Her father left Brighton on the following 
morning, and had she dared Blanche would have 
gone with him, in open opposition to her mother. 


STILL AT BRIGHTON. 


123 


But this could not be, and she found herself 
obliged to remain and make the best of it. It is 
not natural for one of her age to be perfectly 
miserable long, and presently she began to look 
around for something that might mitigate the 
misfortune. She was very vain, and her vanity 
required food : might she not find this in Brighton, 
after all ? Even in this staid, old-fashioned com- 
munity there must be some who could admire and 
appreciate style and accomplishments, and perhaps 
envy them. Then, too, it occurred to her that this 
might be the very spot of all others where the 
most admiration would probably be obtained, for 
she flattered herself that there could be no rivals 
here to divide attention. She determined there- 
fore to make a general investigation of the con- 
tents of her wardrobe, and select the most becom- 
ing articles of dress, and then, by way of aston- 
ishing the country people with her accomplish- 
ments, she could use French phrases freely when- 
ever she had the opportunity. 

Flora, on the contrary, with surprising adap- 
tation, seemed to be accommodating herself to the 
style of living in her uncle’s house. She com- 
plained no more of having to be her own cham- 


124 


FLORA MORRIS* CSOICE. 


bermaid, but nearly every morning went the 
rounds with Lucy, going from room to room, and 
assisting her to make beds and dust furniture, 
with almost as much ease and good-humor as if 
she had been brought up to the business. In the 
kitchen, too, she began to feel equally at home, 
at her own desire taking lessons from her aunt in 
the art of baking, until at last she was allowed to 
make a cake without assistance, even to the iceing. 
As she looked at this — to her — very wonderful 
achievement, I think she experienced quite as 
much happiness as she had ever felt upon master- 
ing any fashionable accomplishment. 

Every day, too, she was finding out in some 
way that her Brighton friends were not as defi- 
cient in polite literature as she had at first sup- 
posed. She was looking over the book-case one 
morning when her cousin John happened to be 
present, and in the course of her investigations 
came across some Latin volumes. She wondered 
whose they could be, and then recollecting what 
Willie had told her of their cousin Pierrepont, 
she mader.up her mind that he must be the owner. 
An involuntary feeling of curiosity possessed her 
to see the handwriting of one about whom she 


STILL AT BRIGHTON. 


125 


had heard so much. She opened one of the 
books, a Latin Grammar, at the title-page, and to 
her surprise saw written in a bold, but boyish 
hand, John (7. Morris,^’ Still, John might have 
chosen to write his name in his brother’s book. 
She took up a copy of Virgil, but here again was 
the same signature, in a firmer hand and over a 
more recent date. She turned to her cousin, who 
was reading a paper, and holding out the well- 
worn volumes, inquired. 

Are these your books. Cousin John ?” 

He looked up from his paper, and glancing 
towards them replied, simply, 

I believe so.” 

^^How very strange!” she exclaimed, invol- 
untarily. ‘‘And is it possible that you have 
studied Latin ?” ^ 

“ I have tried to do so,” he returned, laconically. 

“And have read Virgil?” she continued. 

“ Have tried to do so,” he replied, in the same 
tone. 

Then looking up at Flora’s flushed and aston- 
ished countenance, he added, coolly, 

“ Very preposterous of me to make such an at- 
tempt — was it not ?” 


126 


FLORA MORRIS’ CHOICE. 


Why no, I suppose not,^^ she said, slowly ; 

‘Mt was my mistake; but I thought ’’ 

Here she hesitated, very much at a loss how 
to finish the sentence. He did it for her. 

^^You though t,^^ he said, ‘Hhat a man who 
wears an old straw hat and follows the plough 
has no business with the classics ?” 

“ I ought to have known better,’’ she replied, 
recovering her composure ; I should have re- 
membered Cincinnatus.” 

No,” he answered, smiling, I decline any 
such comparison. Cincinnatus and I have nothing 
in common; and remembering him would not 
have thrown any light upon my movements. 
He was called from his plough to steer the ship 
of state safely through the breakers, and I rather 
think that I shall be allowed to remain quietly at 
mine for the rest of my life, which would cer- 
tainly be the best thing for my country; for 
should I attempt any such lofty achievement it 
would prove a signal failure. My highest earthly 
aspirations at present are to do my duty as a good 
citizen and a good farmer.” 

Flora had no reply ready, but she muttered 
some rather complimentary words about his being 


STILL AT BRIGHTON. 


127 


able to accomplish well whatever he might 
choose to undertake. Compliment was not much 
in Flora’s line, but she was mortified at the 
mistake which she had made in failing to appre- 
ciate her cousin, and in allowing him to see that 
she had done so, and now she was desirous of 
making up for it if possible. With increasing 
confusion, and even pain, she remembered having 
once explained a simple Latin quotation which 
she had used inadvertently, and now she wondered 
very much what he must have thought of such a 
ridiculous and unwarrantable assumption of 
superiority on her part. There was nothing in 
his manner to show that he indulged in the same 
unfortunate recollections, or felt any resentment 
towards her on account of anything that might 
have happened in the past; but he seemed to un- 
derstand the compliment as an intended peace- 
offering. 

“Never mind. Cousin Flora,” he said in his 
usual calm and quiet manner; “your mistake was 
a very natural one, after all ; only please do not 
make a second and more unfortunate one Fy run- 
ning into the opposite extreme, and attributing to 
me talents that I do not possess, merely because 


128 


FLORA MGRRm CHOICE. 


I happened to have a slight knowledge of the 
Latin language. It is much more mortifying to 
find one’s self overrated than underrated. The 
first is apt to remind one of his many deficien- 
cies, while the other places one instantly upon the 
lofty pedestal of the martyr, and inspires him 
with an inward consciousness which is wonderful 
at enabling him to endure almost any amount of 
injustice.” 

Flora busied herself in replacing the volumes 
in the book-case, apparently too much engaged 
in having them all exactly even to return an 
answer; and after a few moments her cousin 
continued: 

Then, too, it is never fair. Flora, to judge of 
a person’s character even by the amount of edu- 
cation which he has acquired. Knowledge is ex- 
cellent in its way, yet something more than this 
is required to make one useful in the world; and 
the most valuable members of society are not 
always found among the most learned. We have 
men among us here, in Brighton, whose opportu- 
nities have been very limited, whom we could not 
easily spare. They have good common sense, 
good natural abilities, good principles, right views 


STILL AT BRIGHTON. 


129 


of life, and the power of influencing others in the 
proper direction; and these qualifications are in- 
valuable to a community. You remember, too, 
that our Saviour chose his disciples from among 
poor and unlearned fishermen; and the apostle 
Paul, in his Epistle to the Corinthians, said of 
those whom God had selected to do his work, 
^For ye see your calling, brethren, how that not 
many wise men after the flesh, not many 
mighty, not many noble are called; but God has 
chosen the foolish things of this world to con- 
found the wise.’ The brightest crowns in heaven 
may be worn by those upon whom the world 
would never have bestowed the smallest of its 
laurels.” 

Flora’s power of speech here failed her en- 
tirely. Her cousin had entered upon a subject 
where she was not competent to give an opinion. 
The Bible was almost a sealed book to her; it 
was rarely mentioned in polite society at home, 
and never appealed to as a text-book in the man- 
ner in which she had heard it done in Brighton. 

Dear me !” she sighed to herself ; I must 
appear far more ignorant and benighted to the 
good people here than they do to me. All their 


130 


FLORA MORRIS’ CHOICE. 


ideas are formed upon an entirely different basis 
from mine. But there is one thing that I am de- 
termined/’ she added, emphatically ; I will never 
assume any more airs of superiority in the pres- 
ence of an inhabitant of Brighton. It does not 
pay, and only makes me appear ridiculous, I sup- 
pose, where I mean to be dignified. Then, too, 
I may find profound Latin scholars among those 
whom I have regarded as ignorant of the English 
language.” 

Flora was unconsciously beginning to adopt the 
Brighton standard of judgment, and it seemed 
strange to her that she had never before imagined 
that real, solid worth was to be found beneath a 
plain exterior. Her reflections were put to a sud- 
den flight by the entrance of Willie, who came 
bounding in the room, followed by the dog. 

Why, Cousin John I” he exclaimed, ‘‘ I have 
been looking for you everywhere. I did not ex- 
pect to find you in the house, but Aunt Mary told 
me that you were here. Ezra Haines wants to 
see you about the potatoes — not those that are in 
the back field, but the early ones, over by the 
corn-field.” 

Willie’s active mind had been taking in a won- 


STILL AT BRIGHTON. 


131 


derful amount of agricultural knowledge since his 
arrival in Brighton, and now he could talk quite 
understandingly about matters that pertained to 
the farm. 

John laid down the paper which he had re- 
sumed, and took out his watch, a large silver one 
which had once belonged to his grandfather. 
Then, expressing some surprise at the lateness of 
the hour, he went out in answer to the summons, 
leaving Flora to muse over the strange contrast 
between the society of Brighton and that to which 
she was accustomed at home. 



CHAPTER VIII. 



MJEMMEPONT MOJRBIS. 

HE afternoon of the day upon which 
Pierrepont was expected home had come. 
He had formed almost the entire subject 
of conversation at breakfast and dinner; 
and in fact scarcely a single meal had 
passed since Blanche and Flora had reached 
Brighton during which his name had not been 
mentioned more than once. Blanche had said, 
with an air of disgust, 

am tired and sick of the very name of 
Pierrepont.” 

At first, Flora’s sensations in this respect were 
similar to her sister’s; but after hearing the ab- 
sentee spoken of in equally high terms by others 
outside of the family circle, who could hardly be 
accused of partiality, she began to experience a 
feeling of curiosity to see him, which at length 
grew into interest. But now that the long-looked- 
132 






% 


■S* 



Flora Morrrix' Choice. 


Pierrejiotit’s Arrival, 


Page I.*!.*). 



PIERREPONT MORRIS. 


133 


for time had arrived, with an instinctive perception 
that the first meeting with his family had better 
not be in the presence of strangers, she retired to 
her own room ; yet, unable to resist the strong de- 
sire she had c)f seeing him, she seated herself at 
the window, where, concealed by the curtain, she 
could have a view of the front entrance. 

She listened earnestly for the wheels of the 
vehicle, and presently was gratified by hearing 
them approach the gate. In a moment the whole 
household, who had been 'watching even more 
eagerly than herself, were collected upon the lawn. 
Willie was the first to alight from the carriage. 
He had not been troubled by any instinctive per- 
ceptions, and never once doubted his welcome to 
the seat which his cousin John offered. From 
the very first, Willie had made himself one of the 
family, and had now become completely identi- 
fied with it. Closely following Willie, was a tall, 
slender figure, quick and graceful in movement. 
Flora could only catch a glimpse of the side face, 
which displayed an outline of regular features, 
somewhat resembling Lucy^s, and dark brown 
hair. Her first impulse was to call Blanche, but 
upon second thoughts she decided not to do so. 


134 


FLORA MORRIS^ CHOICE. 


as she had no desire to hear such disparaging re- 
marks as Blanche would probably make. So she 
sat quietly looking down upon the warm and af- 
' fectionate greetings which passed between the 
family and the newly arrived, impressed with 
the conviction that the love which was so abun- 
dantly lavished upon her cousin Pierrepont was 
not thrown away, as he seemed quite as glad to 
see his friends as they were to receive him. 

Flora watched the group until they disappeared 
upon the piazza, and then fell into a very sombre 
sort of reverie. A feeling wonderfully akin to 
loneliness oppressed her, and a longing after sym- 
pathy. Her sister was but a few feet distant, in 
the same room, not yet awakened from her after- 
noon’s nap ; but Blanche, with her vain, selfish, 
and frivolous disposition, could scarcely be said to 
be a companion for any one. Flora was waking 
to the consciousness that it is possible to live for 
other objects than dress and fashion — that the 
chief end for which a human being is created 
might not, after all, be merely to appear to advan- 
tage in this world, and to enjoy its pleasures and 
vanities. Her uncle’s family seemed to have 
entirely different aims in view, commencing just 


PIEREEPONT MORRIS. 


135 


where all her plans terminated — with the end of 
this life. They must regard her as a mere trifler, 
leading an idle, useless existence. Only one step 
more appeared to be required to take Flora into 
the right path, to bring her to see and acknow- 
ledge what she really needed — simple faith in God, 
and an earnest pleading for the direction of his 
Holy Spirit. Only one step forward to plant her 
feet upon firm ground, where alone she could find 
safety; but it was not taken, and she remained 
still standing upon the same dangerous platform. 
Her thoughts changed, and what commenced 
with dissatisfaction towards herself merged into a 
feeling of general discontent towards others. She 
experienced a strong disinclination to meet the 
family, she would be so much out of place 
among them ; and now that Pierrepont had re- 
turned, they must all feel her to be in the way. 
If she could only go away somewhere, or render 
herself invisible for a time! But^she could do 
neither, and the difficulty remained the same. 

Her uneasy reflections were abruptly ended by 
the sudden opening of the door with a quick 
jerk, which could come from no other than 
Willie, that general disturber of the peace of the 


136 


FLORA MORRIS* CHOICE. 


household. She turned towards him, as he 
bounded into the room, and exclaimed, 

Willie! how you have frightened me! I 
do wish you would learn to enter a room less 
noisily.’’ 

Blanche jumped up hastily, with a startled 
look, now fully aroused from her slumber, and 
whined out an additional complaint; but both 
were lost upon AVillie, who seemed to feel that it 
was his right to find fault upon this special 
occasion. 

^^Why, girls,” he cried out, ^Svhat are you 
doing up here? Cousin Pierrepont has come home, 
and he is such a splendid fellow! He can row 
boats, and swim, and he has caught sharks, 
and he knows all about the farm and every- 
thing else, and he has sailed on the Nile, and seen 
sphinxes, and been among Arabs and up mountains, 
and in a volcano. I tell you he is a regular ” 

AVillie hesitated. The term which he consid- 
ered most expressive, and which he was accus- 
tomed to bestow upon those whom he admired 
most, seemed hardly fitted for his cousin Pierre- 
pont, who had inspired him already with a large 
amount of respect. 


PIEREEFONT MORRIS. 


137 


^^What in the world is Willie talking about? 
I am sure I cannot understand him/’ complained 
Blanche, whose brain was just then in a very con- 
fused state. 

“Do you mean a brick, or a trump, which, 
Willie?” inquired Flora, perfectly familiar with 
her brother’s ordinary expressions, and trying to 
suppress a smile at his hesitancy. 

“ Oh, I don’t know,” replied Willie, with a 
perplexed air. “ Pierrepont is really splendid, 
but somehow he does not seem like other people.” 

“ But what about his going to be a clergyman ?” 
questioned Flora. “You remember that you 
complained about that only a few days ago?” 

“ He did not say anything about it himself,” 
replied Willie ; “and then, you see, I did not know 
about the Arabs and the shark, and what a fine 
fellow he was. But you had better hurry and 
come down and see him for yourselves,” he added, 
bounding out of the room about as rapidly as he 
had entered it. 

“ Do please tell me what Willie means ?” in- 
sisted Blanche. “ Pierrepont Morris has come 
home, which I can understand ; but what has 
that to do with Arabs and volcanos ?’^ 


138 


FLORA MORRIS* CHOICE. 


You know,” Flora answered, that this ad- 
mirable cousin of ours spent a year or more 
abroad, traveling with a clergyman, a professor in 
college and an old friend of the family.” 

Blanche disclaimed any such knowledge, and 
Flora went on ; 

I supposed, of course, that you knew all about 
it, for I have often talked it over with Lucy. 
Pierrepont was very much out of health ; he 
studied too hard, I believe ; and the doctors 
thought that traveling would be of benefit; and 
that is why he went.” 

Did he spend any time in Paris ?” inquired 
Blanche. 

Oh, of course,” Flora answered ; he must 
have remained there for several weeks, from what 
Lucy told me of his sight-seeing.” 

shall ask him about the Empress Euge- 
nie’s hair,” returned Blanche — “ whether it is not 
the same shade as mine. Helen Eoscoe said it 
was not, and Mr. La Farge, that elegant-looking 
French gentleman whom we met at Niagara, 
assured me that it was exactly the same. Then, 
too J nust ask him about her style, for — ” 

' ^ lo beg of you, Blanche,” hastily inter- 


JPIERREPONT MORRIS. 


139 


nipted her sister, to confine your questionings to 
the Arabs and the Dutch, and let the Empress 
Eugenie alone.’’ 

‘^What a ridiculous suggestion. Flora!” re- 
plied Blanche. “ The Arabs are barbarians, and 
I abominate the Dutch, who are no better.” 

Some of our friends at home,” returned Flora, 
would no doubt be much gratified by your last 
remark. Lena HofPman, for instance, who prides 
herself upon her Knickerbocker blood.” 

You are too provoking. Flora,” said Blanche; 
you take exception to everything I say.” 

Flora’s reply was interrupted by a gentle 
knocking at the door, followed by the entrance of 
her cousin Lucy. 

‘‘I thought,” she said, ^4hat you might not 
know that brother Pierre had arrived, and I came 
to tell you of it.” 

I knew that he was here,” Flora answered, 
somewhat hesitatingly ; but as he had been ab- 
sent so long, and I supposed that you must have 
a great deal to say to each other, I thought it 
might be more agreeable to you to have him all 
to yourselves for the first few hours, without 
being troubled by strangers.” 


140 


FLORA MORRIS^ CHOICE. 


You were very considerate, Cousin Flora,” 
replied Lucy, but very much mistaken. You 
know that you are not strangers, and that we all 
are of one family now. Then, too, we have 
spoken of you so often in our letters that Pierre 
is quite anxious to know you.” 

The answer was very simple in itself, but there 
was a kindliness in Lucy’s manner which quite put 
to flight the fancies about being in the way which 
had disturbed Flora’s imagination. She responded 
to it with one of her most expressive smiles, 
immediately commenced giving the few necessary 
additional touches to her dress, and when these 
were finished offered to assist Blanche, who was 
making quite an elaborate toilet. Lucy waited 
patiently until both were ready, and then the 
three girls went down together. They found 
their cousin Pierrepont at the foot of the stairway 
waiting to receive them. He did not pause for 
an introduction, but met them with such perfect 
ease and cordiality as instantly placed them upon 
the friendly footing of near relatives. 

With a spirit of opposition, such as one is in- 
clined sometimes to feel towards those whom 
every one else seems bent upon praising, fostered 


PIERREPONT MORRIS. 


141 


by the unpleasant fact of finding superiors 
where she had expected to meet with inferiors, 
Flora had determined to make her cousin Pierre- 
pont the object of her most unmerciful criticism. 
But his friendliness had quite disarmed her; the 
evil spirit was exorcised, and she was inclined to 
regard him with entirely different feelings. She 
had looked upon him as the peculiar property of 
his own family first, and then of Brighton gene- 
rally — son and brother to the one, and companion 
and friend to the other — a stranger to herself, and 
one in whom she had no claim or proprietorship. 
Now, on the contrary, he was her cousin — a very 
near connection, and one whose virtues were to be 
acknowledged and praised, and whose faults were 
to be sacredly obscured from the eyes of the world. 



CHAPTER IX. 


A BMIGHTON FIGNIC. 



iHE arrival of Pierrepont Morris seemed 
to be a signal for the commencement of a 


f series of festivities peculiar to Brighton. 
First of all, the long projected pic-nic 
was to take place. Thursday was set 
apart for it, partly because there was no church 
meeting held upon that evening; and for days 
beforehand great preparations were made for the 
grand event. Calls were constantly being ex- 
changed between the various members of the 
committee, for the purpose of ascertaining what 
portion of the feast each person would contribute ; 
and Flora could not but admire the readiness 
with which those who were able to afford it taxed 
themselves for the most expensive articles. 
Every one furnished something towards the com- 
mon stock, and none felt that they were unwel- 
come. She had caught the spirit of the thing, 


142 


A BRIGHTON PIC-NIC. 


143 


and grew quite interested in bearing of cakes and 
pies, canned fruit, tongue, a la mode beef, &c. 
Blanche came to her on Wednesday morning with 
a complaint. 

have had my doubts. Flora, all along,” 
she said, “ as to whether we ought to go to this 
pic-nic, and now I am convinced that we ought 
not.” 

‘‘What is the matter with the pic-nic?” in- 
quired Flora. 

“ Only this,” replied Blanche — “ that it will not 
be at all select, even for Brighton. All sorts of 
people seem to be going, even those Adamses ; and 
I do not think we ought to mix in with such a 
crowd.” 

“ I do not care who may be going,” returned 
Flora. “ I have made up my mind to go, and to 
enjoy myself, too ; and now it would take more 
than the whole family of the Adamses to keep 
me away.” 

Blanche was completely nonplussed. Flora 
seemed to be retrograding in the social scale as 
fast as Willie, and she was powerless to hold 
them back. What should she do ? After having 
entered her protest, she felt as if she ought to 


144 


FLORA MORRIS' CHOICE. 


show her disapprobation by absenting herself 
from the pic-nic. This appeared to be the only 
proper and consistent course for her to take, but 
yet there were objections to it. It would be ex- 
tremely unpleasant and lonely to stay at home all 
day, while the rest of the young people were 
abroad enjoying themselves. Then what would 
her aunt say to such a proceeding? She would 
not dare to plead the real cause to one who 
would not only fail to appreciate it, but would 
not hesitate to condemn it. She was turning 
the matter over in her mind, trying to see her 
way through the difficulty, when Flora again 
spoke: 

‘^You had better go, too, Blanche. You need 
not keep company with those whom you do not 
like, for there will be plenty of others to talk to. 
In fact, I do not see what else you can do, without 
giving offence — Aunt Mary is such a decided 
enemy to exclusiveness, and she has a wonderful 
talent at putting down nonsense.’’ 

Blanche muttered something about there being 
no nonsense in the matter. 

“Of course, my dear,” continued Flora, “you 
would not regard it as nonsense, but the proba- 


A BRIGHTON PIC-Nia 


145 


bilities are that she would. You know that you 
and she differ widely upon most subjects.^^ 

Blanche hesitated and demurred, and finally 
said she would see about it, which Flora under- 
stood to be equivalent to an assent, and she felt 
that she had gained her point. 

The heavens were watched most observantly on 
Wednesday evening, and the knowing ones pre- 
dicted clear weather for the following day ; and 
the morning verified their predictions. Flora 
awoke to find the sun shining brightly through 
her windows, and her heart rejoiced with the 
birds. She selected from her wardrobe a dress of 
plain material and of strong texture, that would 
not easily be torn. Blanche, on the contrary, laid 
out a bright, airy-looking garment, better adapted 
to the ballroom than the woods. 

Why, Blanche V’ exclaimed Flora, I should 
think you might find some more suitable dress to 
wear than that silk organdie. A few blackberry 
briers would soon put an end to it.” 

am not going among blackberry bushes,” 
Blanche answered; ^‘and if I must attend this 
pic-nic, I shall do it as genteelly as possible. 

10 


146 


FLORA MORRIS’ CHOICE. 


There is no need that I should make a fright of 
myself to please the Brighton people/^ 

“I did not suggest the change of dress as a 
special favor to the inhabitants of Brighton, but 
upon your own account,” responded Flora. 

can take care of myself, thank you,” re- 
torted Blanche, sharply. 

After this speech Flora at first concluded to let 
her sister wear what dress she chose, and suffer 
the consequence of her folly; but upon second 
thoughts she could not quite make up her mind 
to let her make herself ridiculous in the eyes of 
others, without another effort to prevent it. 

Blanche,” she said, persuasively, after a short 
pause, I think it would be a great pity to ruin 
such a handsome dress as that, merely for the 
sake of wearing it once; and even if it should 
not get spoiled, after having it on all day long, 
and everybody seeing so much of it, you will 
hardly feel like wearing it of an evening. It 
looks so much better of an evening, too.” 

Blanche did not answer, but her countenance 
showed signs of relenting, and Flora was encour- 
aged to persevere. 

‘‘Now there is that grenadine with the blue 


A BRIGHTON PIC-NIC. 


147 


spot/’ she continued ; it is quite as becoming to 
you for daylight, but does not look so well of an 
evening : and then it is much tougher and not so 
expensive.” 

Blanche demurred a while, but finally con- 
sented. The organdie was replaced in the ward- 
robe, the grenadine with the blue spot was 
brought out, and Flora had gained her point in 
this second instance. It was perfectly natural 
that she should be elated with the success, and 
that the feeling should find vent for itself. This 
was one of the bright days of her life, and she 
skipped over the room with a light tread, occa- 
sionally humming a tune or bursting out in 
snatches of some merry song. Blanche, on the 
contrary, did not feel so happy as her sister ; and 
when one is in an ill-humor it is sometimes 
very annoying to find others inclined to be 
jovial. 

‘‘Well, Flora,” she said, should think you 
must have changed your mind very materially of 
late. When you first came to this place you said 
you were going to jump into the pond in prefer- 
ence to staying here. How soon is the perform- 
ance to come off?” 


148 


FLORA MORRIS* CHOICE. 


I gave up that idea long ago as an utter im- 
possibility/^ returned Flora, quite coolly. 

“There is enough water in the pond to drown 
you, if you choose to try it,^’ retorted Blanche. 

“Oh, yes! I dare say the water is all right,’^ 
replied Flora; “the difficulty rests entirely with 
Nero. He is an insurmountable obstacle. Willie 
told me some time ago that he positively pro- 
hibits the ducks from swimming. They march 
resolutely down to the pond and very determin- 
edly step into it; but Nero keeps a sharp look- 
out, and as soon as they are fairly upon the water 
he is impressed with the idea that they are drown- 
ing, and rushing frantically in seizes one after 
another of the poor creatures, and throws them 
upon the land before they have time for even one 
quack of remonstrance. They soon learn to keep 
out of the pond when he is in the neighborhood ; 
and I have concluded to profit by their experience, 
in preference to experimenting on my own ac- 
count. You must see for yourself, Blanche, that 
it would never do for me to be hauled out drip- 
ping in that style. It may not be so very objec- 
tionable for ducks, but it would be extremely in- 
decorous for me to be held up as a spectacle, with 


A BRIGHTON PIC-NIC, 


149 


my clothes all draggled with mud and water. It 
would quite destroy all the romance, which is the 
only charm of such a tragedy. Ugh! the very 
thought makes me shudder.’^ 

Your eyes ought to be sharper than those of 
the ducks, Blanche answered ; and I have no 
doubt that you can find abundant opportunity of 
jumping into the pond when Nero is busy upon 
some distant part of the farm.’’ 

‘^Well, yes, I suppose I might,” returned 
Flora, slowly and thoughtfully, ‘‘if I did not 
happen to have another and still stronger reason, 
which is a decided antipathy to drowning myself 
at all. L have come to the conclusion that 
Brighton is not so very bad after all, and I think 
I shall be able to pass the holidays here very 
comfortably.” 

“There is no accounting for tastes,” Blanche 
replied. 

“Speaking of tastes,” said Flora, “reminds 
me of breakfast, to which I have no doubt I shall 
be able to do ample justice. And there is the 
breakfast-bell, which I am not sorry to hear.” 

The pic-nic party was to be very general, com- 
prising not only the young people, but many 


150 


FLOUA MORRIS* CHOICE. 


heads of families, among whom were Mr. and 
Mrs. Morris. The work of preparation was 
quite exciting. Baskets of almost every descrip- 
tion were packed with provisions, spoons, forks, 
dishes, table-cloths and napkins. The carriage 
and farm-wagon were both called into requisi- 
tion, and at about nine o’clock all was ready for 
departure. But a sudden fear took possession of 
Blanche. Suppose some burglar, knowing of 
their absence, should take advantage of this op- 
portunity to rob the dwelling. She had various 
valuable articles of jewelry which she would be 
sorry to lose, besides the contents of her ward- 
robe, which would be difficult to replace. Bolts 
and locks were seldom fastened in Brighton, and 
Jemima, being in the back kitchen, could hear but 
little of what might be going on in the front part 
of the house. She mentioned her fears to her 
uncle. 

‘‘Do not trouble yourself on this subject,” he 
replied. “We have never yet had a robbery 
occur in Brighton or its vicinity, and it seems 
scarcely likely that one should be gotten up for 
your especial benefit.” 

“ Nor a murder,” added his wife. 


A BRIGHTON PIC-NIC, 


151 


Flora expressed surprise at this wonderfully 
delightful state of atfairs, and contrasted it with 
the condition of things in the city, where such 
events were almost of everyday occurrence. 

I scarcely know how I should manage to live 
in a place where I should have the fear of robbers 
constantly before me/’ said Mrs. Morris. 

Blanche was quieted, but her uneasiness was 
not removed. She had far less faith in the purity 
of the Brighton people than had those who knew 
them better ; and then, too, she was suffering from 
another source of anxiety. She would probably 
get tired long before the day would, be over, and 
where should she find a place of rest ? Besides, 
she felt no disposition to remain out in the open 
air, exposed to sun and wind all the time, until 
fiice and hands should be tanned to the vulgar 
shade which she detested. 

I suppose there is a hotel of some sort near 
to where we are going,” she said. 

No, there is nothing of the kind,” her uncle 
replied. You may travel a number of miles in 
that direction without finding a single place where 
liquor is sold. But of course, Blanche,” he con- 
tinued, smiling, ‘‘your concern on this subject 


152 


FLORA MOEEIS* CHOICE. 


cannot arise from a desire to imbibe anything 
stronger than such drinks as we have brought 
with us/’ 

Blanche disclaimed any such inclination, and 
only plead guilty to the desire of finding a place 
to rest if she should grow tired. 

We have arranged for all that,” Mrs. Morris 
answered. Aunt Betsey Moore has a house on 
the outskirts of the woods, where we shall all be 
sure of finding a hearty welcome. It is not very 
grand either in its dimensions or furniture, but it 
is sufficiently large for our purpose, and every- 
thing there is neat and comfortable.” 

Blanche wanted very much to inquire who 
Aunt Betsey Moore was ? and whether there could 
be any tie of relationship existing between herself 
and this person ? But she hesitated, for she had 
learned to be very cautious about making inqui- 
ries of her aunt. Flora, on the contrary, felt no 
scruple in asking any question that occurred to 
her. 

Who is this Aunt Betsey Moore, Aunt Mary ?” 
she inquired. ‘^Is she a relation of mine ?” 

“ Probably not,” replied her aunt ; but she is 
related or connected with nearly half of the in- 


A BRIGHTON RIC-NIC. 


153 


habitants of Brighton, and so we all claim her 
under the title of aunt. She is quite a wonderful 
person in her way. Although over eighty years 
of age, somewhat feeble in body, she is active and 
energetic in mind, and takes as much interest in 
affairs generally as if she had not counted half 
that number of years.’’ 

‘AVho lives with her?” Flora asked. 

‘^Her daughter, and two grandsons who attend 
to the farming,” replied her aunt. 

All this time they were driving slowly over a 
beautifully varied country. Now they were pass- 
ing through the woods, over a road so seldom 
used that their progress was constantly impeded 
by the branches of the trees. Then they would 
emerge upon an open plain, where they could 
catch bright glimpses of the deep blue sea; and 
again they would be toiling over a succession of 
small hills in a rolling meadow country. Here 
and there, too, from an elevation they would over- 
look a space of moist ground, bearing a strong 
resemblance to a well laid out and highly culti- 
vated garden. Wild flowers of brilliant shades 
and luxuriant growth bloomed profusely in 
patches of varied size and form, but all shaped 


154 


FLORA MORRIS' CHOICE. 


with as much precision as if they had been ar- 
ranged by the hands of a skillful gardener. Oc- 
casionally, too, they would see ponds whose sur- 
face would be thickly covered with the pure 
white water-lily. 

Flora was in a state of ecstasy. Sometimes 
she would give vent to her feelings by enthusi- 
astic expressions of admiration, and again, under 
the influence of a sensation too deep for words, 
she would lean back in the carriage and sit gazing 
silently upon the beautiful prospect. In her own 
way she enjoyed it all very much, and yet there 
was a higher degree of happiness to be obtained 
from these scenes than that of which her mind 
was capable. It may afford us great pleasure to 
look upon a wonderful piece of mechanism, per- 
fect in its symmetry and design, even if it should 
be the work of a stranger. But how much 
higher will be our appreciation of it if it has been 
planned and executed by our father, whom we 
love and reverence above all others! We look 
upon it not only as a proof of the genius and 
skill of the maker, but also as giving evidence of 
his pure and loving nature, that has striven to 
benefit the heart as well as please the eye. In 


A BRIGHTON PIC-Nia 


155 


looking over the beauties so lavishly spread 
around her, Flora saw no traces of the hand of 
Him from whom cometh every good and every 
perfect gift, nor was the the slightest feeling of 
gratitude blended with the enjoyment which she 
experienced. 

In the course of the drive they saw various 
other vehicles, all upon the same errand as them- 
selves. The faces of some of the occupants were 
familiar, but there were many others that were 
entirely strange. Among the former Flora recog- 
nized Mr. Lambert and family, Mrs. Edmonds 
with her son and two daughters, the Nortons, and 
Mr. Carter with his sister — Mr. Edmonds taking 
sole charge of the store in the absence of his 
clerk. It was more than an hour before they 
reached the place which had been selected for the 
pic-nic. It was a smooth piece of woods in the 
neighborhood of the bay, where the fishing was 
good, and where boats could be procured for those 
who fancied rowing. The Morris party drove 
immediately to the house of Aunt Betsey Moore, 
anxious to pay their respects first to the old lady, 
and to make some arrangements with her 
daughter about that portion of the entertainment 


156 


FLORA MORRIS' CHOICE. 


which she was to supply, and for which Mr. 
Morris intended amply to repay her. The dwell- 
ing was of a description with which Blanche and 
Flora were becoming quite familiar — a low, one- 
storied building, whose unpainted boards had 
become brown by exposure to sun, wind and rain, 
and whose overhanging eaves were ornamented 
by a covering of rich green moss. The little 
garden was very brilliant with a variety of 
flowers, among which the hollyhock was most 
conspicuous; and presented a striking contrast to 
the interior of the house, where there were none 
but the necessary articles of furniture, and these 
all of the plainest possible description. 

The visitors were all warmly welcomed, but 
Pierrepont, having been away at college, received 
the largest amount of attention ; and Flora was 
particularly struck by his behavior towards these 
very humble friends. If old Aunt Betsey had 
been the highest lady in the land, he could not 
h-^e been more polite and deferential in his 
manner towards her, he was so gentle in his 
demeanor and so considerate of her comfort. 
He drew her chair out of the way of a streak of 
sunlight which might have annoyed her, lifted 






■'.; r->>‘ ■ ■>■ 

'V:-, ... ., ■ • ^ • 

. vV j . 



The Picnic. 

Flora Morris' Choice. • 







A BRIGHTON PIC-NIC. 


167 


the cushion, which had fallen to the floor when 
she arose to meet him, arranged it in its proper 
place and insisted upon her being seated, lest she 
should be tired. All this was done very quietly, 
and without the least attempt at display. Then 
he stood patiently beside her, answering the tri- 
fling questions which she chose to ask, as fully and 
pleasantly as if she had been some kind patroness 
to whom he owed an unlimited amount of respect 
and gratitude. There was some little danger that 
the old lady might forget that he had any more 
pressing engagements than conversation with her- 
self; but this was prevented by her grandson call- 
ing Pierrepont out to attend to some matter per- 
taining to the unlading of the provisions. He left 
her with a polite apology for his abruptness, and 
a promise of seeing her again and having a good 
long talk before the close of the day. 

There was much real enjoyment in the pic-nic 
party. Every one seemed to have left home with 
the determination to be happy if possible, and 
when this is the case success is almost sure to fol- 
low. It was a picturesque and pleasant sight, 
even for one who was only an observer. Here 
and there groups were scattered, employing the 


168 


FLORA MORRW CHOICE. 


time according to their different tastes. Some in 
boats upon the beautiful bay, some fishing, some 
walking through the woods and upon the beach, 
and others seated upon logs or trees or fragments 
of rock, engaged in earnest conversation. Flora 
appeared to be quite in her element, and equally 
disposed to enjoy every form of amusement. She 
spent one hour in boating, and enjoyed it vastly; 
then she tried fishing, which was rather less to 
her fancy; then she joined a party who were 
picking up shells upon the beach ; and when this 
last fancy had exhausted itself, she walked 
through the woods with her cousin Pierrepont, 
Mary and Helen Edmonds, and two or three 
other young people. Pierrepont was very enter- 
taining. He possessed an uncommon talent at 
description and was admirable in telling stories, 
going into them with such zest and enthusiasm as 
to carry his listeners into the very midst of the 
scenes which he was describing. Helen Edmonds 
asked a question of his travels, which led him to 
give an account of a forced entrance which he 
made into one of the ancient cities of Palestine. 
He saw a few wretched houses, perched upon a 
steep rock, and surrounded by an old, crumbling 


A BRIGHTON PIC-NIC. 


159 


wall. The guide pointed this out as Gibeah of 
Saul, and he instantly determined to see some- 
thing more of the old city, whose name had been 
familiar to him from his childhood. The guide 
and his fellow-travelers objected to the attempt; 
the rocks seemed almost inaccessible from this 
point, and the view from where they stood was 
regarded as sufficient for their purpose. But 
Pierrepont’s curiosity was excited, and he re- 
mained resolute in his determination. It was 
probably the only opportunity he should ever 
have of exploring this ancient place, and he 
would not willingly lose it. Begging them to 
slacken their pace, and promising not to detain 
them long, he instantly started off without wait- 
ing to hear any further remonstrance. With 
some little difficulty he managed to scale the 
ascent, but here his way was obstructed by the 
wall. The broken soil was giving away beneath 
his mule’s feet; it was impossible to go back- 
ward; he must go forward at whatever cost. 
For one moment he looked at the rude barrier 
crumbling with age, and then, urging the animal 
to one more reckless plunge, he was on the other 
side, with no more serious accident than the 


160 


FLORA MORRIS' CHOICE. 


breaking out of a few loose stones from the wall. 
Yet here a more formidable difficulty arose, for 
he found himself in the very midst of a wild- 
looking crew of human beings, of almost every 
age and size, all clamorously demanding '‘buck- 
sheesh/’ The case was growing desperate, and 
he saw new dangers springing up before him. 
The crowd looked threateningly upon him, as if 
ready to tear him to pieces if he should refuse 
their request. At the very best they would de- 
tain him, and in this way he might lose his com- 
panions. He might be arrested for injury done 
to the wall, and how should be ever manage to 
defend himself under such circumstances? If he 
should pour out the entire contents of his purse, 
it would not serve to satisfy one-half of the de- 
mands made upon it, and would probably only 
serve to make matters worse by giving offence to 
those whose desires it would fail to meet. Imme- 
diate flight was his only hope of safety; and 
this could not be easily accomplished with these 
rude creatures pressing closely upon him, hold- 
ing on to the mule or some portion of his dress, 
and chattering a loud, continuous jargon that not 
only deafened his ears, but almost seemed to de- 


A BRIGHTON PIC-NIC. 


161 


prive him of the power of reasoning. With the 
sudden and desperate impulse of one whose life 
is in danger, he took out his pistol and pointed 
it towards the motley crowd, threatening to fire 
among them if they did not instantly release 
him. This unexpected movement served to in- 
timidate them for the moment, and taking 
advantage of the favorable opportunity, he 
spurred on his frightened mule and started for- 
ward. The crowd followed, crying wildly as 
before, but he had gained the vantage-ground, 
and was determined not to lose it. Perceiving 
an opening in the wall just before him, he passed 
through it, plunging rapidly down the mountain 
side until he reached the spot where his com- 
panions waited for him. Here he breathed freely, 
but it was some minutes before he succeeded in 
his efforts to narrate his escape. 

While these events were transpiring it had 
never once occurred to him that there could be 
anything ludicrous connected with them; but 
now, when he had finished the recital, he laughed 
very heartily as he remembered the very comical 
appearance which these Gibeahites presented. 

The young ladies were very much interested, and 
11 


162 


FLORA MORRW CHOICE. 


begged for other stories. Flora recollected his 
promise to Aunt Betsey, and expected that Pierre- 
pont would excuse himself upon this ground and 
return immediately to the house. But she was 
mistaken. His enthusiasm seemed now to be 
fully aroused, and he went on delighting his 
hearers for nearly two hours longer. At first, 
Flora was pleased with this, for she thought that 
she should never tire of listening to him ; but after 
a while, as the time passed on, she experienced a 
feeling of disappointment. The breaking of a 
promise to an old woman in Aunt Betsey Moore’s 
position would have seemed but a trifle to her 
and scarcely deserving of notice, if performed by 
one of her own gay associates at home. But she 
had expected better things from Pierrepont, who 
had seemed so very good that she had regarded 
him as quite perfect; and now she sighed over 
her mistake. 

Flora was right, for Pierrepont Morris was not 
perfect. He was a devoted Christian, loving 
God fervently, and earnestly striving to serve 
Him with a perfect heart and a willing mind, and 
giving evidence of this by a zeal which could 
not be mistaken. But he was not free from 


A BRIGHTON PIC-NIC. 


163 


human imperfections, and was still subject to like 
passions with others, and obliged to fight daily 
and resolutely against his own evil tendencies; 
and never successfully, except when he put on the 
whole armor of God. In his extreme amiability 
and desire to give all the happiness which he 
could, he was very ready to make promises that 
were sometimes unfortunately forgotten. The 
fault arose, not from the readiness to make the 
promises, but from the tendency to forget them. 
So now he reclined against a tree enjoying him- 
self and entertaining his young audience, entirely 
regardless of the disappoinment which he was in- 
flicting upon the poor old lady whose earthly 
enjoyments were so few, and who^was waiting so 
anxiously for him. Something, however, at last 
served to remind him of his promise — a trifling 
thought which seemed to have no connection 
whatever with the subject, and which occurred 
in the midst of a description which he was 
giving of Capua. He paused and consulted his 
watch. 

^‘1 had no idea,’^ he said, ^Hhat the hours were 
passing so rapidly. I promised Aunt Betsey to 
spend a good deal of time with her to-day, but I 


164 


FLORA MORRIS* CHOICE. 


shall not be able to redeem my promise entirely. 
Fifteen minutes is the very most that I can spare 
to her now. I am very sorry, for I fear that she 
will be disappointed. Ah ! well, it is too late to 
remedy the matter this time, and I must try to 
do better in the future.’^ 

Oh ! never mind Aunt Betsey,” urged Helen ; 
‘^she has given you up by this time, and an ex- 
planation will be all-sufficient.” 

^‘No, no, Helen,” he replied; “please do not 
offer me any assistance on the wrong road. I can 
go fast enough in that direction of myself, and I 
only need help in getting back upon the right 
track. So, good-bye, young ladies ; I am sorry 
to leave you, but it cannot be avoided.” 

The girls watched his retreating figure, as he 
moved rapidly in the direction of the house, for 
a few moments, and then sauntered over to where 
a group of young people were holding a conver- 
sation at a short distance. Among these were 
Blanche and Mr. Frank Carter. There was 
something in the appearence of the two which 
Flora did not altogether like. Blanche seemed 
to be in an uncommonly loquacious mood for her. 
She was looking very patronizingly upon her 


A BRIGHTON PIC-NIC. 


165 


companion, while bis face wore a mischievous ex- 
pression which to Flora’s eye boded no good. 
He had evidently found out her sister’s weak 
points, and was drawing her out for the purpose 
of amusing himself at her expense. The first 
words that she heard was a question from him : 

“What was the name you just now used, Miss 
Blanche ?” 

“ Shakespeare,” she repeated, and then went on 
flippantly: “Shakespeare, you know, was an 
English poet, who lived many years ago. He 
wrote plays, too, that have been performed at the 
theatre.” 

“Are you sure that he was born in England?” 
continued her interrogator; “perhaps it was in 
Ireland or Scotland. It seems to me that I have 
beard of him somewhere.” 

Blanche hesitated, and her face wore a per- 
plexed look. Her knowledge of history and 
geography was rather limited, and her mind 
became confused. That Ireland and Scotland, 
with England, helped to form the kingdom of 
Great Britian, she was certain, and she also re- 
membered the name Avon as connected with the 
birth-place of the great poet. But might she not 


166 


FLORA MORRIS' CHOICE. 


be mistaken as to Avon being in England? She 
tried to think, but only grew the more perplexed. 
Still, she was pretty sure Shakespeare really was 
an Englishman; her companion was waiting for 
her answer, and it would never do to plead igno- 
rance while asserting her claim of superiority. 

‘‘Oh, yes,^’ she said; “he must have been 
English, for the Irish and Scotch are such rude 
people that I do not believe they could write 
plays fit for a refined audience.’^ 

“Of course,’^ he replied, with a well-assumed 
air of deference, “you ought to know better 
than I; but, by the way, was there not a man 
named Sir Walter something — ” 

Flora saw a gleam of amusement in Helen 
Edmonds’ eye, and could bear it no longer. 

“Blanche!” she cried, so sharply and quickly 
as instantly to attract her sister’s attention, “do 
you know that snakes choose for their nests just 
such logs as that upon which you are sitting ?” 

Blanche jumped up hastily with the startled 
look of one in danger, and Mr. Carter hastened 
to assure her that there was no real cause for 
alarm, and begged of her to be seated. But 
Flora, having succeeded in breaking the thread of 


A BRIGHTON PIC-NIC. 


167 


the discoui^e, had no intention of allowing it to be 
taken up again. 

^‘It is scarcely worth while to sit down,” she 
said, ‘^for it will very soon be time for us to take 
our departure, and I think we had better begin 
our preparations.” 

The little group started forward, and Flora by 
a dexterous movement contrived to make Blanche 
the companion of gentle, amiable Mary Edmonds, 
while she took upon herself the entertainment of 
Frank Carter. The young gentleman had suffi- 
cient penetration to understand her motive for this 
arrangement, and felt rather ashamed of the part 
which he had been acting, although trying to 
excuse his behaviour under the plea that he was 
only defending himself against the battery of 
contempt which Blanche was freely pouring upon 
himself and friends. He looked rather more 
subdued than usual, and seemed at a loss what to 
say. A ground squirrel made its appearance just 
in advance of them, and he instantly directed 
Flora’s attention to it. But the little creature 
vanished from sight, leaving him in the same 
quandary as before. Then, drawn on by that 
peculiar magnetism which sometimes tempts a 


168 


FLORA MORRIS* CHOICE. 


fugitive into the very danger from which he is 
striving to escape, he inquired, 

‘^Are you fond of the AYaverley novels, Miss 
Flora 

Flora hesitated for a few moments before re- 
turning an answ’er. She meant to collect all 
her forces to meet her sister^s adversary, deter- 
mined, if possible, to be the conqueror this time 
herself. 

I do not believe, Mr. Carter,” she said, slowly, 
that you are so very anxious to know whether I 
like Sir Walter Scott’s stories but that you can 
wait for the information until some other oppor- 
tunity ; and, as you have been acting the part of 
questioner so long, I think you must allow me to 
take your place now. Will you please tell me 
whether it is considered gentlemanly and polite, 
in Brighton, to amuse one’s self with the weak 
points of visitors, for the purpose of turning 
them into ridicule?” 

It was now Mr. Carter’s turn to color and 
become confused. 

“You are a stern questioner for so young a 
person. Miss Flora,” he said, “ and one whom it 
will be very hard to answer. I may have behaved 


A BRIGHTON PIC-NIC. 


169 


badly, but you must acknowledge that I had 
strong temptation.” 

‘^Perhaps so,” she replied; ^^but then, you 
know, that the stronger the temptation, the greater 
the merit of resisting it.” 

They walked on in silence for a while. Flora 
was wondering at her own boldness and ability 
in defending her sister. Although younger, she 
was the stronger of the two, and had often been 
called upon to act as champion for Blanche, and 
her qualification for the post had been developing 
rapidly of late. Mr. Carter was busily engaged 
in discussing a point between his conscience and 
his pride ; but they were now already in sight of 
the rest of the party, and the discussion must be 
brought to a hasty conclusion, and this time it 
was in favor of conscience. 

Miss Flora,” he said, in a subdued tone, I 
confess to having done wrong. I have acted in a 
way that would not be regarded as gentlemanly 
or polite, either in Brighton or any other civilized 
portion of the world. I only thought I was 
teaching your sister a lesson ; but I find that I, 
myself, had forgotten a very important one.” 

Well,” returned Flora, frankly and pleasantly, 


170 


FLORA MORRIS* CHOICE. 


I believe thei^ is always hope of improvement 
where one is conscious of their need of it/’ 

She had barely finislied speaking, when they 
were met by Lucy and a young companion, who 
announced that, previous to returning home, it had 
been decided that there should be a brief religi- 
ous service held in the grove back of Aunt 
Betsey’s cottage, under the direction of Mr. 
Lambert — a sort of joint family worship for the 
whole party. Owing to her infirmities, the old 
lady had not been able to attend church for 
several years, and it was a great privilege to her 
to hear the clergyman’s voice and to join in 
worship with the people of God. 

This arrangement seemed to be perfectly 
natural and satisfactory, to all, even the youngest 
and liveliest of the assembly; for, with them, 
religion was not kept back to be brought forward 
only upon the Sabbath and upon occasions of 
sickness or death. They had been taught to 
regard, according to its practical meaning, the 
command : Whether, therefore, ye eat or drink, 
or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God.” 
Flora, in her utter ignorance of the nature of true 
religion, was inclined to question the propriety of 


A BRIGHTON PIC-NIC. 


171 


sucli proceedings, while Blanche was disgusted 
and annoyed. Yet there was no help for it, and 
both moved forward with the crowd, impelled by 
the force of circumstances; Flora, feeling some- 
what curious to see how the affair would be con- 
ducted, and Blanche only anxious to have it over. 

Aunt Betsey was seated upon her chair at the 
open window, and beside it, on the outside, 
stood Mr. Lambert, with Bible and hymn-book, 
and near to him Pierrepont Morris, whom the 
old lady wanted to have in sight as long as possi- 
ble. A hymn was sung, whose words and tune 
were familiar to all. Signor Ricordi might have 
produced more scientific music, but nothing as 
effective or heartfelt. Then, Mr. Lambert read 
the ninety-first Psalm, and offered a prayer; after 
which followed another hymn, sung with as much 
emphasis as the first ; then, Mr. Lambert made a 
few appropriate remarks, and finished by calling 
upon Mr. Morris to lead in prayer. The services 
were closed with the long metre doxology. 

The party reached their homes just as the moon 
was rising, after having passed a pleasant and not 
unprofitable day. 


CHAPTER X. 



QUESTIONS OF CONSCIENCE. 

)KS. WILLIAM MOEKIS wrote fre- 
quently to her daughters from the differ- 
ent places where she sojourned ; giving 
such glowing accounts of hops, fancy 
balls, and masquerades as served to keep 
Blanche in a constant state of disquietude at 
what she was pleased to term the slowness of 
Brighton. “I am merely existing here,’’ she 
said, in answer to one of her mother’s letters, 
and if it were not for looking forward to the 
winter, I am certain that I could not endure it.” 
When she expressed herself in this way to Flora, 
which she did quite frequently. Flora was not 
concerned on her account, believing the distress 
to exist more in imagination than reality; but 
she rarely disputed a point with Blanche, know- 
ing the uselessness of such a contest. Willie’s 
opinion still remained altogether fevorable to 
172 


QUESTIONS OF CONSCIENCE. 


173 


Brighton, and he openly declared that he had 
never spent his holidays so agreeably. As to 
Flora, herself, there were times when she was 
conscious of a craving after the fashionable 
amusements which her mother described, and 
when the social restraints of Brighton were irk- 
some to her; but this was not her general experi- 
ence. Very frequently she would congratulate 
herself upon the rational happiness which she 
was now enjoying, when compared with the fever- 
ish excitement, envyings, and slights which had 
marked her previous summers. Her fancy for 
ilovelty was every day being gratified by some 
new and strange development on the part of her 
Brighton friends. She was walking with her 
cousin Pierrepont, upon one occasion, when the 
conversation turned upon music, and she asked 
him what opera houses he had been in while 
abroad. 

‘‘None,’’ he replied. 

“What!” she exclaimed; “you certainly did 
not leave Naples without having been in San 
Carlo?” 

“ Yes,” he repeated, smiling, “ I certainly left 
Naples without having entered San Carlo.” 


174 


FLORA MORRIS' CHOICE. 


were you never at a theatre or opera 
house in Paris she inquired, in surprise. 

Never/’ he replied. 

Why, they have such splendid theatres 
abroad !” she exclaimed ; and San Carlo is so 
perfectly magnificent for the purpose !” 

^‘Very probably,” he answered, quite coolly, 
but my taste does not lie in that line.” 

I had rather stay at home than go abroad 
and mope,” said Flora, very decidedly. 

‘^But I do not think I did mope,” replied 
Pierrepont, with a comical expression ; I was a 
little homesick once or twice, but I did not call 
that moping.” 

Flora smiled in spite of herself. There was 
something almost ludicrous in the idea of attri- 
buting to Pierrepont a disposition to mope — he 
was always so sprightly, had such a keen enjoy- 
ment of life, was so actively engaged ixi the 
present, and so full of plans for the future. 

I did not mean moping,” she said, by way of 
apology, ^‘but not looking at what was worth 
seeing.” 

But I did look at a great many things that 
were worth seeing,” he answered. looked 


QUESTIONS OF CONSCIENCE. 


175 


with deep interest into Westminster Abbey and 
the Milan Cathedral ; at St. Peter’s and the Co- 
liseum, and many other very important buildings. 
But the tastes of all do not lie in the same line. 
Let me explain my meaning. There was a gen- 
tleman whom we met in Italy whose fancy 
seemed to be entirely for old bones and relics. 
He went out of his way to see the skeleton of a 
poor fellow who, centuries ago, had been built up 
between two walls. He was delighted with the 
hideous remains of St. Charles Borromeo, decked 
out with sparkling jewels; enjoyed groping 
through the Catacombs more than a drive upon 
the Pincian Hill, and paid money for the privilege 
of looking down into a deep burial vault in 
Naples, where the bodies of the’ poor were lying 
in various stages of decomposition.” 

‘‘But, Cousin Pierrepont,” said Flora, “you 
should not compare such disgusting sights with 
the opera and theatre, where all is so full of life 
and brilliancy and beauty.” 

Pierrepont thought of those whom the Saviour 
had denounced as “whited sepulchres, full of 
dead men’s bones, and all manner of unclean- 
ness.” Not that there was anything peculiarly 


176 


FLORA MORRIS' CHOICE. 


pharisaic in theatrical performances; it was only 
in the nature of their influence that the similitude 
lay. What a variety of temptations were lurk- 
ing around these places of amusement, in the 
form of nets spread out to entrap the unwary, 
and to how many had the entrance to them 
proved to be but the going down into the cham- 
bers of death! But he did not allude to these re- 
flections to Flora, knowing that she would not be 
able to appreciate them. 

I referred to the difference of tastes,’’ he said, 
explain to you that although some people 
might find pleasure in visiting the theatre, I 
should not. You will, perhaps, charge me with 
being as devoid of proper taste as ' the gentleman 
of whom I spoke, when I tell you that I enjoyed 
a quiet little prayer meeting, which I attended at 
Jerusalem with a few friends, more than I could 
have done the most brilliant performance at San 
Carlo.” 

Flora’s countenance expressed the surprise 
which she could not speak. 

see I am falling sadly in your estimation, 
Cousin Flora,” he said, ^^and perhaps before we 
are through I may find myself even lower still ; 


QUESTIONS OF CONSCIENCE. 


177 


but I want to be perfectly frank with yon, and 
must suffer the consequence. My disinclination 
for the theatre is founded entirely upon principle. 
I feel that in entering its doors I should be doing 
wrong. I could not do this thing and sin against 
God. Even if I should go to such a place in 
open opposition to my sense of duty, the know- 
ledge that I was offending against a holy God 
would make me miserable and quite prevent my 
enjoying the performance.’’ 

This last speech did not in the least tend to 
lessen Flora’s astonishment. 

I know,” she said, after a short pause, that 
it would not be considered exactly right for a 
clergyman who is preaching and has a congrega- 
tion to go to the theatre at home; but for one 
who, like you, is only a student, and abroad 
among strangers, I cannot see the slightest harm 
in it.” 

They had taken a seat at the roadside, upon a 
rude bench put up by the villagers for the conve- 
nience of pedestrains. Pierrepont reached over, 
and, breaking off a clover blossom, began to dis- 
sect it, making a close observation of every tiny 
little flower which composed the whole. 

12 


178 


FLORA MORRIS^ CHOICE. 


Flora misinterpreted his silence. She jumped 
to the hasty conclusion that she had already con- 
vinced him that he had been mistaken, and was 
about to continue the subject according to her 
own ideas, when he interrupted her with the 
question, 

“ On what principle would it be wrong for a 
clergyman at home, having charge of a congrega- 
tion, to attend a theatrical or operatic per- 
formance 

The inquiry came out unexpectedly, and Flora 
was not prepared to reply to it. Ever since she 
had thought of the matter at all she had regarded 
it as wrong for a clergyman to do this thing, 
which would be perfectly innocent for his people, 
but she had never thought of looking for a 
reason. 

I presume,” she said, hesitatingly, that it 
must be on account of the peculiarly sacred office 
of a clergyman, and because he ought to set a 
good example to the people.” 

I cannot understand your mode of reasoning. 
Cousin Flora,” he replied. You think that it is 
not wrong for persons generally to go to the 
theatre, and yet you say that one of the reasons 


QUESTIONS OF CONSCIENCE. 179 

why a clergyman ought not to do so is because it 
W'ould be setting a bad example to his congrega- 
tion. If it is right for them to go, how can he 
possibly injure them by leading the way?’’ 

“I think that I might do many things which 
it would be very wrong for a clergyman to do,” 
she said. 

“Perhaps so,” he replied, “although the Bible 
does iK)t draw any such distinctions as to who are 
to obey the laws which it lays down. For 
instance, it is not clergymen alone, but all, who 
are commanded, ‘Be not conformed to this 
world; but be ye transformed by the renewing of 
your mind, that ye may prove what is that good 
and acceptable and perfect will of God.’ ” 

Flora was not sufficiently acquainted with the 
precepts of the Bible to attempt to argue about 
them, but she had heard a great deal said about 
the duty of professors of religion generally, and 
clergymen in particular. 

“Clergymen ought to be very good men,” she 
reasoned. 

“ I agree entirely with you there,” he answered ; 
“they ought to strive earnestly to follow the ex- 
ample of our Saviour — aiming to be perfect, even 


180 


FLORA MORRIS^ CHOICE. 


as our Father in heaven is perfect. But so ought 
every one else. All the creatures of God are 
bound by the same laws, and there are none ex- 
empted, so far as I can remember.” 

“ Yes,” she said, hesitatingly ; I suppose every- 
body ought to try to be as good as they can.” 

There was another pause, during which Pierre- 
pont dissected and closely examined a second 
clover blossom ; and by the time he had finished 
his investigations Flora was ready with a question : 

‘^Do you think it wicked to go to card or 
dancing parties?” 

‘‘Do you mean for clergymen, or for yourself?” 
he inquired, 

“I did not refer to clergymen,” she replied, 
slightly coloring ; “ of course one could not ex- 
pect a clergyman to play cards or dance ; I meant 
persons generally.” 

“Cousin Flora,” he said, “I do not believe 
you appreciate what I am about to say, for you 
and I look upon this subject from such very dif- 
ferent stand-points. I am a professed follower of 
the Saviour. I desire to imitate his example ; to 
serve him with a perfect heart and with a willing 
mind ; avoiding everything that might bring dis- 


Qt/i:STIOI^S OF CONSCIENCE. 181 

credit upon his name. I fully recognize my ob- 
ligation to do this, for he died to save me, and all 
the love and service which I can render to him is 
nothing compared with what he has done for me. 
It is a rule of my life never willingly to go 
where my Master would not be received if he 
were still upon the earth, or to engage in any 
amusements where it would be considered out of 
place for me to mention his name to my asso- 
ciates. I must follow His example who pleased not 
himself — who w,as holy, harmless, undefiled and 
separate from sinners.” 

He paused, but Flora could not respond to 
such remarks. She had no sympathy with them. 
He who had aroused such deference and affection 
in her cousin’s heart was to her but as a root out 
of a dry ground, having no form or comeliness, 
and in her eye there was no beauty to desire in 
him. 

‘^And, after all,” he continued, ‘‘what trifling 
matters these earthly pleasures are when com- 
pared with the realities of eternity ! A few years 
of very mixed enjoyment here, and then count- 
less ages to be spent in bliss or woe, according to the 
preparation which we have made for the future. 


182 


FLOUA MOHnm* CBOICK 


Did it ever occur to you, Flora, what a very solemn 
thing it is to live — to occupy a state of proba- 
tion in which one is to build the solid foundation 
for future good or evil? And then with this life 
ends all our plans ; in the place where the tree 
falleth, there it shall lie! Death sets the seal 
upon every hope so far as we are concerned. 
^ There is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, 
nor wisdom in the grave whither thou goest.’ ” 

As he finished speaking, Pierrepont arose and 
turned his face homeward, and, silently and me- 
chanically, Flora followed his example. She was 
deeply impressed by the last few words that he 
had spoken. Theoretically, she believed that there 
were two worlds — one of happiness and the 
other of misery — but practically slie ignored the 
existence of any such truth. As long as she 
could remember, death had seemed to her to be a 
solemn thing, because here all existence ended, so 
far as earth was concerned, and beyond that line 
all was utter darkness and the shadow of death. 
But it had never occurred to her that to live was 
solemn, and to die was only setting the seal upon 
the plans and purposes of life ; yet now her con- 
science told her that this was the case. Time 


QUESTIONS OF CONSCIENCE, 183 

was but a state of probation, and eternity was the 
real, permanent position of the immortal soul, 
where all was fixed and unchangeable. If a 
mistake were made in this world, it could not be 
rectified in the next; and if misery were to be 
the portion of the soul, it must be unending, for 
there could be no looking forward to the future 
in hope of finding alleviation. It was here 
that hope ended and despair commenced. She 
remembered one bright spring morning seeing a 
poor cripple begging at a corner of one of the 
city streets. The sight was not new to her; she 
had witnessed the same scene many times before, 
but it had never impressed her as it did upon 
this particular occasion. It might have been 
that the beautiful morning, with its balmy air 
and bright sunshine, had softened her heart, and 
rendered it particularly sensitive to emotions of 
pity and sympathy. She could not tell; she 
only knew that she was led to think deeply and 
sorrowfully on the condition of the young man 
— a helpless cripple, poor and destitute, for whom 
there could come no ray of hope from the future 
to brighten the dreary present. She pictured to 
herself what her own feelings would be if she 


184 


FLORA MORRIl? CHOICE. 


were in his place. No room for hope, all lost in 
the gloom of despair; and for days and weeks 
afterward she was haunted by the words no 
hope, no hope!’’ sounding in her ears through 
the loudest tones of merriment, and thrilling her 
heart with a painful consciousness of what might 
be even in this world. But her cousin had led 
her thoughts still farther on to the point, where 
'despair would be the portion of the lost soul 
for ever. The poor cripple might not have been 
utterly bereft of hope after all; for through all 
the darkness of earth he may have been looking 
forward to the glorious brightness of heaven, 
where there should not only be an end of his 
poverty and suffering, but where he should be 
happy beyond expression. She could readily 
understand how the earnest faith of the Christian 
could lead him to bear pain and trouble uncom- 
plainingly all the years of his life, with the 
prospect of a blessed eternity in view. But for 
her there was no such hope. Death must indeed 
be the end of all enjoyment to her, for earthly 
pleasures were all that she could understand or 
appreciate. Yet could she give up all these for 
the sake of securing that everlasting hope? Was 


QUESTIONS OF CONSCIENCE. 


185 


not the eternal happiness of the soul worthy of 
such a sacrifice? These were only passing ques- 
tions, flitting through her mind and remaining 
unanswered. 

The human heart is very deceitful, and it will 
not often allow the all-important question of the 
souhs salvation to come up plainly and distinctly 
before the conscience for deliberation. It has a 
subtle process, by which the truth is disguised by 
a tissue of falsehood, of presenting some shadow 
for the imagination to grasp, while the substance 
remains untouched. In reality she was called 
upon to choose between light and darkness, good 
and evil, God and Mammon. But through this 
false medium the questions at issue were changed 
and distorted ; light merged into twilight so dim 
as scarcely to be distinguishable from darkness; 
good and evil became strangely mingled together ; 
and the requirements of God were made to chime 
in with those of Mammon, with an adaptation 
that was perfectly wonderful. 

These lines of separation have been very dis- 
tinctly drawn in the word of God, and the mist 
that appeared to surround them had its origin in 
Flora’s own sinful imagination. If there was 


186 


FLORA MORRIS^ CHOICE. 


any deception in the case, she was herself respon- 
sible for it. The straight road lay before her in 
the clear light of day; but she deliberately closed 
her eyes, and wandered off into the darkness, 
upon a path of her own choosing. 

‘^Pierrepont may say what he pleases,’’ she 
reasoned finally; do not see what sin there can 
be in enjoying the rational amusements of the 
world. To me it seems quite possible to serve 
God and find pleasure in such things at the same 
time. I shall try, at any rate. I may not per- 
haps be as strict in my notions as John, or Pierre- 
pont, or Lu^jy, but if I am only good enough 
to get to heaven at last, I shall be quite satisfied.” 

This closing sentence displayed Flora’s utter 
ignorance of the plan of salvation as it is re- 
vealed in the Gospel. No one in himself can 
ever be good enough to go to heaven. All have 
sinned, and must receive forgiveness and propitia- 
tion for sin in one way only — through the blood 
of the Son of God. AVe have no merits of our 
own to plead before the great Judge, and as sin- 
ful, human beings we are all guilty before him. 
If we are ever saved, we will say with the 
apostle: ‘^Not by works of righteousness which 

f 


QUESTIONS OF CONSCIENCE. 


187 


we have done, but according to his mercy he 
saved us, by the washing of regeneration, and 
renewing of the Holy Ghost; which he hath shed 
on us abundantly, through Jesus Christ our 
Saviour; that being justified by his grace, we 
should be made heirs according to the hope of 
eternal life.’’ 

A young man once came running to the 
Saviour, and earnestly asked him: ^^What good 
thing shall I do that I may have eternal life?” 
Jesus reminded him of the requirements of the 
law as laid down in the Ten Commandments. 
^‘And he said. All these have I kept from my 
youth up. And Jesus beholding him loved him, 
and said unto him. One thing thou lackest: go 
thy way, sell whatsoever thou hast, and give to 
the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven : 
and come, take up thy cross, and follow me. And 
he was sad at saying, and w^ent away grieved, for 
he had great possessions.” So far as the outward 
observance of the law went, he was perhaps right 
in saying, ^‘All these have I kept from my 
youth up.” But Jesus, who knew the heart, saw 
that he had not that supreme love to God which 
would lead him to sacrifice all for his sake, and 
% 


188 FLORA MORRIS’ CHOICE. ' 

he made him to see this by that last plain com- 
mand, which he was not willing to follow. 

Flora, too, lacked one thing necessary to 
ensure her souFs salvation. If her heart had 
been filled with true faith and love towards God, 
she would have been willing to give up all for 
him, without any foolish attempt at compromise, 
‘‘Choosing rather to sutler afidiction with the 
people of God, than to enjoy the pleasures of sin 
for a season; esteeming the reproach of Christ 
greater riches than the treasures of Egypt.” 

The two cousins had walked silently on for 
some distance, each indulging in a separate train 
of reflection, when they met Blanche and Lucy. 
Here the conversation took a new and general 
turn and Flora dismissed for a season the serious 
thoughts which had disturbed her conscience. 


\ 



9 


CHAPTER XI. 


THE INVITATION. 


tell me, Lucy,’’ Flora asked one morn- 
ing, ‘‘how you Brighton people manage to 
pass your time during the winter? The 
summers are lively enough, for then you 
can live pretty much out of doors, and 
the visitors make it almost gay. But the winters 
must be excessively tedious.” 

“I do not think you are very complimentary 
to us this morning, Cousin Flora,” replied Lucy 
smiling: “you speak as if all the animation to 
be found in Brighton came from nature and tho 
visitors. You do not give us credit for any in- 
ternal resources.” 

Lucy could smile now at Flora’s charges 
against Brighton, for she knew they were made 
by a friend. 

“Oh, no!” returned Flora playfully; “pray do 
not accuse me of any such want of appreciation, 

189 


190 


FLORA MORRIS' CHOICE. 


or the charge of not being complimentary will be 
on \he other side. If I were to^denounce the 
inhabitants of Brigljfcoii qb having no inward 
resources, it would only be proof of my own ob- 
tuseness. But then, my dear liucy, inward re- 
sources fail or become stagnant in the course of 
time, if they are not kept fresh and pure by out- 
ward supplies.’’ 

do not apprehend any immediate cause for 
stagnation in Brighton,” Lucy answered; ^^our 
resources are abundantly fed from springs of 
whose existence you citizens are utterly ig- 
norant.” 

“ Ah, a monopoly I suppose,” responded Flora. 

But do tell me, seriously and in plain English, 
how do you find employment for the winter?” 

Seriously, then,” replied Lucy, as far as I 
am personally concerned, school studies fully oc- 
cupy my time.” 

But what can you do for amusement ?” in- 
quired Flora ; you must certainly find it very 
dull.” 

^^It is never dull to me,” Lucy answered. 

We have all our church-meetings in winter as 
in summer.” 


THE INVITATION. 


191 


Church-meetings inwardly ejaculated Flora: 

‘‘ queer specimens of amusement those !” 

And then/’ continued Lucy, perfectly uncon- 
scious of the astonishment she was exciting, we ^ 
have occasional lectures and concerts, and three 
or four donation parties in the course of the 
winter.” 

“ Three or four donation parties !” exclaimed 
Flora. ^^How do you make that out? I thought 
donation parties were only intended for the clergy- 
man ; and as you have but one, I cannot see how 
you manage it. If you give Mr. Lambert three 
or four, I should think he would have more than 
his share.” 

‘‘We have only one donation party for Mr. 
Lambert,” responded Lucy, “ but then we always 
have two or three poor families, to each of whom 
we give one. I wish you could only go with us 
to these donation parties. Flora; I know you 
would enjoy them, for we have such delightful 
times. First of all, the preparations must be 
made beforehand, and we must arrange it so 
that we shall not all take the same articles, 
and this produces quite a pleasant little excite- 
ment.” 


192 


FLORA MORRIS' CHOICE. 


Something like the pic-nic party?’’ suggested 
Flora. 

^^Yes, to a certain extent,” returned Lucy; 
‘^but then the donation parties are better than 
the pic-nics; because in the pic-nics we only 
amuse ourselves, while in the donation parties we 
make others happy and entertain ourselves at the 
same time.” 

‘^And are these all your amusements?” in- 
quired Flora. Do you have no balls or fancy 
costume parties?” 

Elegant dress and expensive jewelry held a 
very prominent place in Flora’s ideas of hap- 
piness. 

We have never had a ball or costume party 
in Brighton as long as I can remember,” Lucy 
answered; ^‘yet we have very pleasant social 
gatherings during the winter, such as society 
meetings, tea-drinkings, and evening parties.” 

Whist parties?” suggested Flora. 

‘^What! card parties?” exclaimed Lucy, with 
a half-frightened look. “ Most certainly not. 
We have never had a card in our house, and 
I have never seen one at any place where I 
visit.” 


THE INVITATION. 


193 


‘^But how do you amuse yourselves without 
dancing or card-playing ?” asked Flora. 

‘‘We have conversational powers/’ replied 
Lucy, a little proudly, “ which, if not cultivated 
to the highest possible extent, are at least suffi- 
cient to enable us to entertain each other agreeably 
for an hour or so at a time. Then we play sprightly 
games, such as Twenty Questions, Proverbs, 
and even Stage-coach, and romping games, which 
are often very merry and exciting. Then, too, 
we have reading circles of an evening, and some- 
times we get up charades — not after the gay and 
expensive manner which you have described to 
me as your city fashion, but impromptu affairs, 
which are really very amusing. Frank Carter is 
excellent in charades.” 

Flora changed color. She had not the least 
doubt of this, judging from the small specimen 
which she had seen of his talent as practised upon 
Blanche upon the afternoon of the pic-nic party. 
But she said nothing of the kind to Lucy. 

“ And yet, after all,” said Flora, breaking the 
silence which had ensued, “ I must confess 
that I see no harm in dancing. It always seemed 
to me to be a perfectly innocent amusement,” 

13 


194 


FLORA MORRIS’ CHOICE. 


I should not suppose/’ replied Lucy, “ that 
there could be any harm in the mere movement 
of the feet. And yet,” she added, there are 
some forms of dancing which are certainly very 
objectionable. The waltz, for instance.” 

‘^Well, yes,” returned Flora, hesitatingly; “I 
think the round dances are rather objectionable ; 
and yet I know some very refined people who 
approve of them. Unfortunately, too, some of 
our most fascinating dances are of this very de- 
scription, but papa requires us to be particular as 
to who are our partners.” 

She paused to contemplate a certain scene which 
just then presented itself to her recolletion. At 
Niagara, Blanche had waltzed with the very 
agreeable French gentleman who had obligingly 
compared her to the Empress Eugenie. Accus- 
tomed as she was to such sights. Flora was, her- 
self, shocked by it, and remonstrated ; but 
Blanche excused herself on the score of necessity. 
She had waltzed publicly with Mr. Bingham, a 
young married man and an intimate acquain- 
tance. Immediately afterward Mr. Bingham in- 
troduced the French gentleman as a partner ; and 
Blanche contended that if she denied him this 


THE INVITATION. 


195 


favor after he had seen her waltz with another, it 
would have been taken as a personal affront. 
Their mother, who was present, said that although 
the idea of young ladies waltzing with strange 
gentlemen was extremely repugnant to her, still, 
under the circumstances, she could not see what 
else Blanche could have done. A foreigner, 
holding such different ideas from those which 
govern us, would most certainly have regarded a 
refusal as a personal affront. Flora was firmly 
convinced, however, that had their father been 
consulted, he would have given a very different 
decision. 

Then, too. Flora,’’ said Lucy, breaking the 
silence, “ we are religious people here, and do 
not profess to look for oiTr chief happiness in the 
world ; and if we were to attempt it, we should 
certainly be disappointed. I do not mean to say. 
Flora,” she added, seeing an ominous frown upon 
her cousin’s^^face, ^‘that we are naturally any 
better than others. Our hearts are just as guilty ; 
and if we ever get to heaven, it will not be on 
account of our own goodness, but because God is 
very merciful and Jesus died to save us.” 

Flora could say nothing in reply to this. They 


196 


FLORA MORRIS* CHOICE. 


were approaching the same ground over which 
Pierrepont had conducted her, and she had no 
desire to travel it again. 

The two girls were seated upon a shady corner 
of the piazza, ostensibly engaged in sewing, but 
neither of them had taken many stitches during 
the conversation. Now their attention was at- 
tracted by hearing a vehicle stop before the gate. 
They instinctively arose to meet the visitor, who 
proved to be Mrs. Norton, the sister-in-law of 
Mrs. Edmonds. She was a large, pleasant look- 
ing lady, who seemed to be always in the posses- 
sion of good health and spirits. 

Good morning, young ladies,” she said ; I 
am delighted to ^ind you at home.” 

After the first greetings were over, Lucy in- 
vited her into the parlor, and offered to call her 
her mother. 

No, thank you, my dear,” replied their visi- 
tor ; it is very pleasant here, and as I have but 
a few moments to stay, it would , not be worth 
while to disturb your mother. I called to 
inquire whether we could have the pleasure 
of seeing you all at our house on Thursday 
evening ?” 


THE INVITATION. 


197 


She looked towards both girls for an answer, 
and they accepted the invitation .for themselves 
and the rest of the family with thanks. She re- 
mained but a few jnoments, and as soon as she 
had left them Lucy said, 

“Now, Cousin Flora, you will have a very 
good opportunity of seeing what our Brighton 
parties are.’’ 

“ Are there any young people at the Nortons ?” 
inquired Flora. 

“Mrs. Norton has but one child,” Lucy an- 
swered — “ a daughter who is married and living 
at a distance. They very often have young 
people staying with them, and both Mr. and Mrs. 
Norton are so very sprightly and agreeable that 
we always enjoy their society. They generally 
spend a few weeks of the summer in traveling, 
and before leaving home give us a farewell 
party.” 

Blanche was much pleased with the invitation 
to Mr. Norton’s. The gentleman’s social posi- 
tion was such that she need never be ashamed to 
acknowledge the acquaintance before the most 
aristocratic of her city friends. Then, too, during 
a short call which she had made upon Mrs. Nor- 


198 


FLORA MORRIS’ CHOICE. 


ton in company with her aunt, she had observed 
that the furniture was rather more elegant than 
that which she had been accustomed to find in 
the Brighton houses. It was not in the village, 
correctly speaking, but about a mile and a half 
distant ; and although the building itself was not 
very remarkable as a specimen of architectural 
beauty, yet the grounds were handsomely laid 
out, and a grove of fine old trees gave it such a 
dignified appearance as served to redeem it even 
in the eyes of fastidious Blanche. 

‘‘Do you know, Flora, she said while they 
were dressing for the party, “that I feel quite 
sure that we are going to have a very pleasant 
evening? Mr. and Mrs. Norton must be different 
from* the rest of the people here. They have 
traveled too much, and have seen too much of 
good society, to retain the humdrum notions 
prevalent in Brighton. Of course there will be 
dancing, for no one having had their opportuni- 
ties could object to that ; and I should not wonder 
if the German were to be the order of the even- 
ing. There is nothing like going out into the 
world to brush off the dust and clear the mind 
of absurdities. I am so glad that we practised 


THE INVITATION. 


199 


the German all last winter. I really feared for 
a while that our labor was thrown away, so far as 
this summer was concerned; but now I begin to 
see the truth of what they try to teach us in 
school — that the work of self-improvement is 
never lost ; that we may find it useful in every 
situation of life.’’ 

Blanche was in a very good humor. She felt 
somewhat like a fortunate creditor who is about 
to receive payment for a debt which he had long 
regarded as valueless. In a sudden fit of inspira- 
tion, proceeding from recollections of the past and 
hope for the future, she performed a few steps of 
her favorite dance before the glass. 

Flora was not so confident as to the German 
being the “ order of the evening” at Mr. Norton’s. 
Her proficiency in it was quite equal to that of 
her sister, and she knew that if the prognostica- 
tions of the latter were correct, she had a very 
reasonable prospect of excelling in the eyes of the 
Brighton community, or at least the portion of 
it that should be represented at Mrs. Norton’s 
party. But if they were not, the case would be 
entirely different. In her education, conversa- 
tional powers were not particularly cultivated, 


200 FLORA MORRIS’ CHOICE. 

except so far as related to a few set phrases of 
compliment or etiquette. One was scarcely exr 
pected to require more than this at an ordinary 
evening party, where dancing and the supper table 
usually occupied the whole time. But at Brigh- 
ton, where social intercourse was conducted upon 
a widely different plan, she saw little prospect of 
shining ; for herself, however, she did not despair. 
She had sufficient self-confidence to believe that 
she would prove at least equal to the occasion, 
and maintain a respectable position among her 
companions. Her fears were principally exer- 
cised for Blanche, whose stock of common sense 
and ready wit were about equally small. 

Mrs. William Morris was called a very skillful 
diplomatist by some, and an uncommonly mana- 
ging woman by others, according to the light in 
which her acquaintances regarded the peculiar 
talent she possessed. Flora inherited this part of 
her mothers disposition, and Blanche was often 
held back from making herself ridiculous by a 
silent influence from her sister of whose very 
existence she was ignorant. But Flora was not 
cool enough now for the exercise of diplomacy. 
Kemembering the folly which had been so openly 


THE INVITATION. 


201 


displayed and taken advantage of at the pic-nic, 
she felt humiliated and angry, and the open war 
of ridicule seemed to her excited mind to be the 
only proper mode of reaching the case. 

‘‘I think, Blanche,’’ she said, ^Hhat you had 
far better practice a little sensible conversation, 
which will be always needful to you, than the 
peculiar turns of the German, which are perfectly 
familiar to you already.” 

“ Dear me, Flora !” exclaimed Blanche, regard- 
ing her sister with an air of surprise, ^‘you grow 
more and more absurd every day. I certainly 
know how to talk.” 

“So does a parrot,” retorted Flora. 

“What do you mean?” inquired Blanche, 
growing quite as angry as her sister. 

Flora began to see her mistake. Open war 
was neither the safest nor most expeditious way 
of bringing Blanche to terms, as it aroused in 
her a corresponding spirit of combativeness 
which it would be hard to overcome. A little 
quiet management would have been much better 
and easier. Perhaps it was not too late even now 
to change her tactics. The object to be gained 
was certainly worth the attempt. 


202 


FLORA MORRIS' CHOICE. 


‘‘I will tell you exactly what I mean, Blanche,” 
she said, in a much more moderate tone. 
hardly think that you will have an opportunity 
to dance the German this evening; but I am sure 
you will be called upon to take your part in con- 
versation — a talent which neither you nor I have 
ever been required to cultivate to any great 
extent.” 

Every child can use its own native tongue, 
which is all that is needed at Brighton,” inter- 
rupted Blanche. 

I do not know that we shall be able to make 
up for lost advantages,” continued Flora, without 
heeding the interruption, ^‘but we can at least 
try. Then, too, we need not make ourselves 
ridiculous by attempting to teach the Brightonians, 
who are much better instructed in this particular 
point than we are.” 

‘^What do you mean?” exclaimed Blanche 
once more, surprised beyond measure at this as- 
tounding statement. 

‘‘ I mean exactly what I say,” repeated Flora; 
^Hhe people of this quiet country place have 
much better conversational powers than either 
you or I. Now just observe for yourself. We 


THE INVITATION. 


203 


will leave Pierrepont out of the question, as he is 
a traveler and a collegian, and take Cousin John, 
who has never been a hundred miles from Brigh- 
ton in all his life. Although naturally very re- 
served and quiet, he has a well-cultivated mind, 
and can answer any question you may put to him 
properly and in well-chosen words. He can 
make himself very interesting, too, for an hour 
or more at a time. Then, for sprightliness and 
repartee, I never met with the equal of Helen 
Edmonds. On the morning of the pic-nic party 
I happened to be standing near to her and three 
or four of her friends, and in five minutes I heard 
more witty and amusing remarks than I should 
have heard in that many years from our set at 
home. John is solid without being heavy, and 
Helen, with a half-dozen or more whom I could 
name, is sprightly without being flippant. Then, 
too, they are better educated in other respects 
than you imagine. Everybody goes to school of 
course, and languages are a part of the ordinary 
course of study. They are extensive readers, for 
they have less to distract the attention here, and 
they are generally well acquainted with the 
standard works of prose and poetry. Uncle told 


204 


FLORA MORRIS* CHOICE. 


me yesterday that Frank Carter could repeat 
whole pages from Milton and Shakespeare, and 
in the best possible manner.’^ 

A sly glance at her sister revealed to Flora a 
flushed and disturbed countenance. Blanche was 
recalling to memory not only that portion of her 
conversation with the young gentleman referred 
to which came under Flora’s observation, but 
much more besides. Her eyes were opening to 
the unpleasant truth that she had been lured into 
making herself an object of ridicule before these 
very people whom she had despised. Flora 
could read pretty correctly from her face what 
was passing through her mind, and could per- 
ceive that her words had taken effect. She pitied 
Blanche, and not deeming it necessary to pursue 
the subject any further, she endeavored to divert 
her attention to something more agreeable. 

am very glad that you mean to wear that 
organdie, Blanche,” she said. “ It is a remarka- 
bly elegant dress, and so very becoming to you. 
You have more taste in dress than I, but it would 
not answer for me to attempt to copy you, because 
what would suit your style would not do for me.” 

Blanche was completely mollified and restored 


THE INVITATION. 


205 


to amiability. She knew perfectly well that her 
taste in dress was very good, but she liked to hear 
the fact acknowledged by others. 

I am sure, Flora,’’ she said, good-humoredly, 
^^that I should always be glad to help you in 
choosing your dresses, and I know mamma would 
not object to my doing so, as she often refers 
matters of this sort to me.” 



CHAPTER XII. 


A BRIGHTON PARTY, ANH SOMETHING ABOUT 
MR. NORTON. 

rules of Brighton society demanded 
hi that the guests at an evening party 
should not appear later than eight o’clock. 
Strangers in the place who were favored 
with invitations sometimes carried . out 
their own ideas of propriety, and did not come in 
until between nine and ten, thinking in this way 
to gain the credit of fashionable superiority. But 
finding that not only their object was lost, but 
also occasionally a portion of the entertainment, 
they pretty soon learned to conform to the primi- 
tive customs of the place and the expressed 
wishes of their hospitable entertainers. 

Neither Blanche nor Flora approved of such 
early hours, but they were forced to yield to cir- 
cumstances ; and at about eight o’clock they found 
themselves in Mr. Norton’s parlor, where a large 
206 


A BRIGHTON PARTY. 


207 


company were already assembled. Blanche 
looked around her and tried to calculate upon her 
prospects for the German. Appearances seemed 
rather favorable on the whole, for many of the 
guests were from Osburne, the town were the 
steamboat had landed. Osburne was a thriving 
town, altogether different from Brighton. It had 
large factories ; large stores, whose windows were 
brilliant with the latest importations of fashion- 
able goods ; a town hall ; four or five handsome 
churches, representing as many denominations; 
and, unfortunately, an equal number of taverns, 
lager beer and billiard saloons. Blanche had 
heard it spoken of in Brighton as the Sodom of 
the neighborhood, and notwithstanding her im- 
perfect knowledge of Scripture, she had an idea 
that Sodom must be a suitable place from which 
to obtain partners for the German. Besides these, 
there were several ladies and gentlemen whom she 
recognized as mere sojourners in Brighton like 
themselves, and who had a city air about them that 
promised well for her hopes. For the present, 
however, conversation was the order of the even- 
ing, and she must endeavor to perform her part 
creditably. Flora stood near, almost afraid to 


208 FLORA MORRIS* CHOICE. 

trust her out of sight, and busily planning how 
she should manage to prevent the display of any 
extra amount of affectation or silliness. She was 
still turning the troublesome question over in her 
mind when Frank Carter made his appearance. 
He was the very l^t person whom she cared to 
see, and she felt a strong inclination to tell him 
so. The fellow must certainly be ubiquitous,” 
she exclaimed, mentally. Verbally, she simply 
said, 

‘‘ Good evening, Mr. Carter.” 

Her manner was hardly cordial, and Blanche, 
who was still suffering the pangs of mortified 
vanity, was decidedly cool. But the young gen- 
tleman, being endowed with a remarkable degree 
of self-confident assurance, was in no wise discon- 
certed at his reception. He chatted on as gaily 
as if he were an acknowledged favorite and per- 
fectly sure of his powers of pleasing. He spoke 
in the highest terms of the Morris family (and 
it is always gratifying to hear one’s relations 
praised, even if one does not altogether approve 
of them) ; he remembered that Blanche had cut 
her finger with a thorn on the day of the pic-nic, 
and inquired kindly whether it had healed ; and 


A BRIGHTON PARTY. 


209 


he paid a delicate tribute to Flora’s judgment, by 
asking her opinion upon certain disputed points, 
and receiving her answer with an air of deference. 
At first the conversation did not flow very freely 
on the part of the young ladies ; but after a while 
both were completely melted beneath his genial 
influence. Pierrepont now came up, and pro- 
posed that Flora should accompany him to an 
adjacent apartment and examine some views of 
Venice, which he thought remarkably good. 
Flora was hesitating, when Mr. Carter, instantly 
suspecting the cause, drew her aside and said in a 
low, hurried tone — 

“ You need not fear to trust your sister to my 
care this evening. Miss Flora. I hope that I 
have profited by your lesson. My own credit as a 
gentleman and the good name of Brighton are 
stronger motives to me than the love of mischief.” 

There was an earnestness in his manner which 
convinced Flora of his sincerity. She expressed 
her thanks quietly, and conversed pleasantly with 
him until Blanche had finished a remark she was 
making to Pierrepont, and he had answered it, 
and then she went with him to see the Venitian 

views. 

]4 


210 


FLORA MORRIS' CHOICE. 


The evening was passing quite agreeably to 
Flora — and to her sister, too, Flora presumed; for 
it was not many minutes before she found Mr. 
Carter at a table near to her, displaying a volume 
of pictures from Punch to Blanche and Mary 
Edmonds, very much to the amusement of the 
young ladies, judging from the very frequent and 
hearty peals of laughter which met her ear. Mr. 
and Mrs. Norton were excellent as host and hostess. 
They possessed the happy faculty of putting all 
their guests at their ease, and bringing together 
persons who were suited to each other. Not one 
of all the company was overlooked, and the 
humblest received perhaps the largest share of 
attention. 

The supper-table was beautifully spread and 
abundantly supplied, but there was not one drop 
of intoxicating liquor visible. Mr. Lambert, by 
request of Mr. Norton, asked a blessing upon it; 
a performance that created a great amount of 
astonishment in the minds of some of those pres- 
ent, which sensation, however, did not serve to 
diminish their appreciation of the good things 
before them. 

When the supper was over there was music 


A BRIGHTON PARTY. 


211 


and conversation again, but still no German. 
Yet the omission was not now noticed by either 
Blanche or Flora, for they were eagerly listening 
to an amusing story with which Mrs. Edmonds 
was entertaining them. The story ended, there 
was a momentary lull, and Mr. Norton said some- 
thing to Lucy and a circle of young people 
among whom she was standing. A movement 
was made towards the piano; Lucy played a 
short prelude and then an accompaniment, to 
which her companions commenced singing the 
beautiful evening hymn; Glory to Thee, my 
God, this night,” and before the first verse was 
finished nearly all the company had joined with 
them. To Blanche and a few others, this seemed 
like a strange ending for an evening party; and 
yet to the majority of those present it was not 
only fit and appropriate, but a blessed privilege, 
to unite thus with their friends in claiming the 
protection of and acknowledging their dependence 
upon Him whom they revered and loved as their 
God and Father. 

Mr. Lambert was the first to leave, and 
in a very few minutes the rest of the company 
had followed his example. The Morrises were 


212 


FLORA MORRIS* CHOICE. 


at home and in bed before half-past eleven 
o’clock. 

What very early hours you keep here, Lucy 1’^ 
said Flora the next morning. 

^^Do you disapprove of our habit in this re- 
spect?” asked Lucy. 

‘^Oh! dear no,” replied Flora; feel so un- 
commonly bright this morning that I have been 
making it a subject of congratulation.” 

^^But if there had been dancing,” returned 
Lucy, do not think we could have managed to 
keep such early hours.” 

Flora smiled pleasantly, for she understood the 
allusion. 

I suppose it would be extremely hard,” she 
said, ^Ho be very dissipated in a place where at 
the parties there is a blessing asked at the supper- 
table, and the exercises of the evening are closed 
with a hymn.” 

“I hope that our Puritanism did not disgust 
you,” Lucy answered, smiling good-humoredly. 

Not at all,” responded Flora; ‘^astonishment 
is the preponderant feeling of my mind. In fact, 
there has not a day passed since I came to Brigh- 
ton that I have not found occasion for it, I 


A BRIGHTON PARTY. 


213 


think it would be impossible,” she continued, 
^^for any person, even the most fastidious, to be 
disgusted at Mr. Norton’s bouse, he and his 
wife both understand so well how to entertain. 
They are attentive without being fussy, and their 
guests are treated with a kindness that is im- 
partial.” 

“I am so glad to hear you say this,” replied 
Lucy, with enthusiasm. “The Nortons are 
among our very best friends, and then they are 
such very good people. Mr. Norton is constantly 
doing something to benefit others, notwithstand- 
ing his many engagements. He is quite gentle- 
manly and elegant-looking, we think.” 

She uttered this sentence hesitatingly, and with 
an inquiring look towards Flora. It was just 
possible to her that Flora, with her grand city 
notions, might differ from her in this opinion. 

“He certainly has quite a distinguished look,” 
repeated Flora, assentingly. 

“ He is gladly welcomed in the very best society 
at Washington and in other large cities where he 
has business engagements,” Lucy continued ; “ and 
I understand that he never hesitates to acknow- 
ledge openly his position as a follower of the 


214 


FLORA MORRIS’ CHOICE. 


Saviour. He is a thorough temperance man, from 
principle, in accordance with the admonition, 
^It is good neither to eat flesh, nor to drink 
wine, nor do anything whereby my brother stum- 
bleth, or is offended or is made weak.’ He owns 
an extensive factory a few miles from his house, 
and has a large number of workmen employed, 
and his manner towards the meanest of these is 
just as kind and gentle as it is to the most influ- 
ential of his acquaintances. It was principally 
on account of these factory hands that he was 
first induced to take such a high stand on the 
subject of temperance. Many of the men were 
in the habit of drinking to excess, and others, 
who did not go quite that far, spent more money 
than was good for themselves or for their 
families in liquor ; and he felt that he could not 
urge strict temperance principles upon them, 
while he indulged himself occasionally in a glass 
of wine. After a prayerful consideration of the 
matter he determined first to give up its use 
entirely, and then use all his influence to induce 
his men to follow his example ; and it is astonish- 
ing how very successful he has been. 

I will give you one instance out of many of 


A BRIGHTON TARTY. 


215 


tlie good he accomplished among those of a dif- 
ferent class. A young gentleman came to Os- 
burne to act as clerk for a while, with the expec- 
tation of eventually settling there in business for 
himself. His father belonged to one of the old 
Brighton families, but had gone to New York in 
his boyhood, where he afterwards became a thriv- 
ing merchant. This, his eldest son, had been ex- 
posed to great temptations at home, and being 
very easily led into sin, his father had sent him 
away to get him out of the reach of dangerous 
companions. But unfortunately he had forgotten 
that Osburne had its temptations, too, and that 
the young man needed something more than the 
mere novelty of a change to preserve him from 
falling. He had scarcely been in his new home 
a year when reports of a very bad character 
began to circulate about him. He had spent his 
salary and an extra allowance from his father in 
dissipation, and was deeply in debt. The person 
with whom he boarded threatened to turn him 
out and his employer to dismiss him, and his 
father resolutely refused to send him any more 
money. 

Mr. Norton heard the sad story on his return 


216 


FLORA MORRIS* CHOICE. 


from a business trip, and immediately drove in to 
the town to invite the young man to spend a week 
with him. At first the invitation was declined 
in the most decided manner, but Mr. Norton, 
nothing daunted, urged and coaxed until at last 
the poor fellow was induced to yield to persua- 
sion, pack up the articles of clothing he would 
need, and accompany his friend home. Every- 
body was astonished, but such was the confidence 
in Mr. Norton that both the boarding-house 
keeper and the employer determined to delay pro- 
ceedings for the present, and see how the visit 
would terminate. Mr. and Mrs. Norton did all 
that kindness and wisdom could suggest, but at 
first their guest was surly, then silent and melan- 
choly; yet before many days had passed he 
melted entirely beneath the kind influence and 
opened his heart to them. In despair at the 
shame and disgrace which threatened him, he had 
actually meditated committing suicide, and would 
probably have done so had not Mr. Norton’s 
timely interference prevented.” 

‘^And how did it end?” inquired Flora. 

^‘Mr. Norton induced him to give him a cor- 
rect list of his debts,” Lucy continued, and then 


A BRIGHTON RARTT. 


217 


handed him first a check for a sum sufficient to 
pay his board bill; then two or three others to 
tradesmen, wdio he knew were needing the money, 
leaving only a few small claims for him to settle 
out of his salary, which would soon be due. 
This freedom from debt of course removed a 
large part of the disgrace which rested upon him. 
He was overwhelmed with gratitude at such un- 
expected kindness, and gladly signed a paper, 
acknowledging his indebtedness to his benefactor 
and promising to repay it as soon as he had the 
power. Mr. Norton took advantage of this op- 
portunity to remind him of the greater indebted- 
ness which he owed to God as his Creator, Pre- 
server and Redeemer, and his duty to acknowledge 
this also with humility and thankfulness. He 
knelt down and prayed with him, and used all 
his influence to induce him to pray for himself 
and to resolve from that time forth to turn from 
sin and follow the Saviour.” 

‘‘Did he do this?” inquired Flora, hesitatingly. 

“Yes, he did,” replied Lucy; “arid I will tell 
you how it all turned out. The Nortons extended 
their invitation indefinitely, and the young man 
became almost like a son to them. He was a 


218 


FLORA MORRIS' CSOICE. 


member of their family for years, and is now not 
only an active and successful merchant, but an 
active and successful Christian. The debt, so far 
as money could do it, was repaid years ago, but 
the gratitude and love must continue the same 
as long as he lives.^’ 

Flora sat silently engaged in revolving a seri- 
ous question in her mind. She was recalling the 
list of her father’s friends, and considering how 
they would each have acted under similar circum- 
stances; and she was forced to the conclusion that 
not one of them would have assumed the respon- 
sibility of receiving a dissipated young man into 
his house and paying his debts. It was unac- 
countable to her what could have induced Mr. 
Norton to pursue such a course. 

‘‘I think Mr. Norton behaved beautifully, 
Lucy,” she said presently; ^‘but I cannot imagine 
why he should have done so much for one who 
had so little claim upon him.” 

“Our Saviour came into the world to seek and 
to save the lost sheep of His flock,” returned Lucy, 
seriously, “and Mr. Norton tries to imitate the 
example of his Master.” 

But this explanation did not make the matter 


A BRIGHTON PARTY. 


219 


perfectly clear to Flora’s comprehension. She 
could not understand or appreciate the love of 
Christ which could constrain His friends to do 
many things which are contrary to nature. 

‘"Lucy!” . 

The call came distinct and clear, and Lucy 
arose in answer to it. 

There is mother calling me,” she said, which 
means that it is nearly dinner-time. It is won- 
derful how quickly time passes.” 

Flora was scarcely conscious of her cousin’s 
last remark, for her mind was once moi’e busy 
with drawing strange comparisons. This time it 
was between society in the city and at Brighton. 
The contrast was certainly very striking, but she 
was mistaken in attributing it to the difference of 
locality^ It had its origin in a far deeper cause. 
It was the contrast between darkness and light, 
evil and good, the power of Satan and the power 
of God — between those who are striving to fol- 
low the example of Him who pleased not him- 
self, but cheerfully suffered poverty and even 
death to save lost sinners, and those whose whole 
energies are devoted to the one great object of 
pleasing themselves alone, entirely regardless of 


220 


FLORA MORRIS' CHOICE. 


the suffering around them. There were many in 
the large city who belonged to the former class, 
but they were not to be found in the fashionable 
circles where Flora visited; and unhappily, too, 
there were some in Brighton who belonged to the 
latter class. It was the grace of God, and this 
alone, which created the distinction. 

Unfortunately, prodigal sons are common to all 
ages and localities, and very few persons can take 
many steps upon the journey of life without 
meeting with one or more of the class. So Flora 
now could recall one in particular — a young man 
whom she remembered as a favored visitor in her 
father’s house when she was quite a little girl. 
Her mother always greeted him with her warm- 
est welcome, and never seemed to consider an en- 
tertainment complete without him. He was 
handsome, agreeable, talented, and very witty, 
and more than all, in the eyes of the world, as she 
knew it, he was wealthy. These qualities made 
him the charm of the social circle. A year or 
two passed away, and a change was discernible. 
His face became flushed with a deeper and less 
agreeable hue than that which health would im- 
part, his features lost their regularity and his 


A BRIGHTON PARTY. 


221 


figure its grace, and his dress had a careless and 
disorderly look. Then she heard whispers of 
something wrong, followed soon by louder com- 
plaints of dissipation, improper behavior at a pri- 
vate ball given by one of the ^lite of their circle, 
and heavy losses by gambling; at last the sad 
crisis came. He was publicly denounced among 
his acquaintances as having frittered away a hand- 
some fortune, being head over ears in debt, and 
trying to borrow money wherever he could obtain 
it. Some one — she could not recollect who, but it 
was a visitor who dined with them — had suggested 
that perhaps, now that his money was all gone, he 
might turn over a new leaf and become a changed 
man, if a friend would step forward and lend him 
a helping hand. But both her mother and father 
opposed the idea in the most decided terms. It 
would be mistaken benevolence and worse than 
useless. Reformation in such a case was almost 
impossible, and it would be folly to trust to so 
frail a hope. These remarks were followed by a 
dissertation from her mother upon the weakness 
of giving way to temptation. In her estimation, 
the first few steps upon the downward road were 
neither wrong nor objectionable in themselves. 


222 


FLORA MORRIS^ CHOICE. 


The evil lay entirely in yielding to the impetus 
which was sure to carry one rapidly to the abyss 
at the bottom. It was gentlemanly and proper 
to drink wine and play cards, but a gentleman 
should never allow himself to become intoxicated 
with the wine or lose money with the cards. 

It occurred to Flora, even then, that it 
might be safer never to touch either of the two, 
but it was merely a passing thought, and so 
thoroughly opposed to the morals of the society 
in which she lived that the idea was dismissed as 
quickly as it had come. Now, however, with the 
other example before her, it assumed a firmer hold 
in her mind, and she felt sure that it was right. 

But to return to the poor prodigal. The fiat 
went forth against him. He received no more in- 
vitations to entertainments, and the servants were 
strictly charged to say not at home” upon all 
occasions to Mr. Beaumont. He had always been 
a special favorite of hers, and she well remem- 
bered how very sorry she felt for him, and how 
upon one evening, when she heard his voice at the 
door, she was strongly tempted to go forward and 
say something kind and consoling to him. But 
Blanche held her back by the threat of their 


A BRIGHTON PARTY. 


223 


mother’s displeasure, and he was allowed to leave 
unnoticed — a subject of sincere regret to her 
long afterward. Even now, at this distance, she 
heaved a sigh of distress that there had been no 
Mr. Norton among poor Mr. Beaumont’s acquain- 
tances, to give him a helping hand and raise 
him from his degradation. The last news of him 
was that he had gone to California; at which 
everybody seemed relieved and none interested to 
know what his future might be in that last earthly 
refuge of the prodigal. 



CHAPTER XIII. 


jL MAINY DAT. 

f T was a stormy day at Brighton. The 
rain commenced falling heavily quite 

? early in the morning, and Blanche and 
Flora were awakened by its noisy 
patter against their chamber window. It 
would be utterly impossible to get out of doors 
all day, from present appearances, and Blanche 
made dismal lamentations over the gloomy pros- 
pect before her. Flora suggested crocheting as an 
alleviation. This seemed to be the one talent in 
which her sister excelled, and there was a tidy, 
which had been comrnenced before she left home 
and packed up in the trunk, where it had lain 
idle ever since, apparently just waiting for this 
favorable opportunity. Blanche demurred as 
usual at the suggestion, but followed it to the ex- 
tent of getting out the article in question and 
laying it upon the table for further consideration. 

224 


A RAINY DAT. 


225 


After breakfast, Willie — whose loyalty to his 
cousin John had in no wise diminished on 
account of his admiration for Pierrepont — pro- 
nounced the rain a fortunate circumstance, because 
it was to be the means of John working in the 
barn; a prospect which had all the charm of 
novelty to him. Blanche sighed once more over 
her brother’s tastes. She glanced at his hard, 
brown hands, and thought of the tightly-fitting 
kid gloves which were laid aside for him in his 
drawer at home. Their mother had had hard 
work to induce him to wear them in the first in- 
stance, and now the lesson must all be learned 
over again. 

Lucy went about her ordinary avocations, as- 
sisted by Flora, and when these were accom- 
plished the two girls took their work into the sit- 
ting-room, where Pierrepont was already waiting 
to read to them, and where they were very soon 
joined by Blanche with her crochet work. The 
article which Pierrepont selected for their enter- 
tainment was an amusing account of a journey 
through the German States, published in one of 
the popular journals of the day. He had not 
proceeded very far, however, when he paused to 
15 


226 


FLORA MORRIS^ CHOICE. 


make a remark suggested by something which he 
read. Quite a digression ensued here, ending in 
a lively conversation carried on principally be- 
tween himself and his sister, but occasionally 
joined in by Flora; Blanche, as usual, being 
almost entirely left out, owing to her lack of gen- 
eral information. Flora listened in astonishment 
to remarks from Lucy which displayed a correct 
knowledge upon several subjects of which she, 
herself, was utterly ignorant. 

‘^Cousin Lucy,’^ she exclaimed in a sudden fit 
of admiration, wish I could attend school with 
you in Brighton for a while ! It is astonishing 
how much more you know than I do 

Both Lucy and her brother laughed heartily at 
this exclamation, while Blanche opened her eyes 
in dismay. 

‘‘ I am in earnest,” repeated Flora ; you have 
acquired a much larger amount of useful know- 
ledge than I.” 

“ I am sure we can learn every accomplishment 
at home, and if we do not improve our opportu- 
nities, it is our own fault,” said Blanche, in the 
tone of one who is reading a lecture. 

“Accomplishments!” responded Flora; “oh! 


A BAINT DAT. 


227 


dear, yes. One can get all the accomplishments, 
and deportment into the bargain, from Madame; 
but I want something more solid. Bon-bons are 
very good, yet one does not feel inclined to make 
an entire dinner off them.’^ 

The subject was here dropped for the present; 
Pierrepont resumed his reading, and the girls 
their work. But an abiding impression was left 
upon the mind of Flora. She had caught a 
glimpse of better things, which, faint as it was, 
revealed to her a higher state of existence than 
that to which her ambition had hitherto pointed. 

The rain continued, and so did the reading; 
and thus the morning passed away — pleasantly to 
three of the party, and rather stupidly to the 
fourth. The German expedition ended only a 
few minutes before the dinner-bell commenced, 
and Pierrepont announced to his audience that 
with their permission he had something else quite 
as interesting to read in the afternoon. So it was 
agreed that they should meet in the same place at 
four o’clock precisely. 

Blanche took her afternoon nap as usual, and 
awakened within a quarter of an hour of the ap- 
pointed time. With a gloomy countenance she 


228 


FLORA MORRIS' CHOICE. 


went over to the window and looked out upon the 
dreary prospect before her. E-ain ! rain ! rain ! 
The clouds poured out one unceasing torrent, the 
only variation being an occasional gust of wind, 
that sent the heavy branches of the trees swaying 
back and forth with a moaning sound that was 
dismal to her ears. 

‘^Oh dear!’’ she sighed, ^‘this is really dis- 
tressing !” 

Now, do you know, Blanche,” replied Flora, 
cheerfully, that I like the weather to day ?” 

“ Flora Morris,” exclaimed Blanche, you 
are the most provoking creature I ever met with 
in all my life. Your oddity is perfectly unen- 
durable.” 

Blanche was wonderfully aroused for her, and. 
there seemed to be a reasonable prospect that her 
annoyance with the weather would be lost in this 
newer source of indignation. Flora, on her part, 
was very much amused at the turn afiPairs were 
taking. It did not distress her in the least to be 
pronounced unendurable by Blanche, for she had 
become quite accustomed to it. 

Yes,” she repeated, quietly, I am very fond 
of rainy days occasionally. The rain seems to 


A RAINY DAY. 


229 


have the same effect upon the atmosphere that a 
hearty explosion of anger has upon some consti- 
tutions. It clears out all the dull, heavy vapors, 
and brightens up everything splendidly.” 

Blanche was doubtful whether to consider this 
remark as personal or not, and before she could 
make up her mind about it. Flora left the room, 
announcing that it was four o’clock, and she 
wanted to be present at the commencement of the 
reading. 

The audience for the afternoon had increased 
by the addition of two — Mrs. Morris and John. 
The article which Pierrepont had selected was not 
very long, and the reading of it did not occupy 
more than an hour and a half; Blanche not 
making her appearance until it was nearly fin- 
ished. Quite an animated conversation ensued, in 
which Mrs. Morris took a very active part until 
called away to attend to some domestic duty. 
Her exit was immediately followed by the en- 
trance of Master Willie. He came in, wet and 
dripping, from the post-office, with the letters and 
papers. Blanche instantly moved off to a dis- 
tance from him, as if suddenly seized with an at- 
tack of hydrophobia. 


230 


FLORA MORRIS^ CHOICE. 


“ Do not come one step nearer to me, Willie,’’ 
she exclaimed, or I shall get wet.” 

Then I suppose you do not care for this ?” 
he replied, holding out a neatly-folded en- 
velope. 

She darted eagerly forward, forgetting her dread 
of his wet clothes in her anxiety to obtain pos- 
session of the letter. 

It is from mamma,” she said, glancing at the 
superscription before opening the envelope. 

There were several other letters besides this 
one, and the papers — one for John upon business, 
one for Lucy from a school-mate who lived in a 
distant city; and, as usual, three or four for 
Pierrepont, from that number of his many friends. 
Willie departed for the kitchen to get his clothes 
dried at the fire, upon Lucy’s suggestion, and 
Flora opened one of the papers to look at the 
news. Presently the attention of all was arrested 
by an exclamation of joy from Blanche : 

“ Oh, Flora, this is delightful ! Mamma writes 
that the Yestorie Opera Troupe, who have crea- 
ted such a furore in Paris, are coming to New 
York this winter.” 

I am sure I am glad to hear it, for we had 


A JRAINT DAK 


231 


nothing remarkably attractive last winter/’ re- 
plied Flora. 

‘‘And what do you think, Flora?” Blanche 
continued — “ Clara Vanderpool is engaged to a 
Russian count, whom she met last winter in Paris, 
and mamma says that the family are, if possible, 
more ridiculously consequential than ever.” 

“I should think, if the Russian count was 
worth having, he might have managed to have 
picked up some one from his own set quite as at- 
tractive as Clara Vanderpool,” said Flora, indif- 
ferently. 

“ Mamma says the current report at Newport 
is that he only marries her to build up a ruined 
fortune, and that Mr, Vanderpool expects to pay 
several thousands every year in return for his 
daughter’s title of countess. I cannot under- 
stand it,” Blanche went on ; “the Vanderpools, so 
far as I can see, are no better than we are, yet — 

“ They are not as good, so far as I can see,” 
interrupted Flora. 

“But they took such airs upon them when 
they went abroad,” reasoned Blanche. 

“ Anybody can take airs,” answered Flora, “if 
they only understand the right way to go about 


232 


FLORA MORRIS' CHOICE. 


it. The exhibition does not require any extraor- 
dinary amount of genius, nor is it dependent 
upon high birth or an exalted reputation.’^ 

She spoke hurriedly, for she feared that in her 
folly Blanche might display even more of the 
envy that was in her heart, and was anxious to 
end the discussion. ’ But Blanche was perfectly 
oblivious to any such fear on her own account, 
and was not to be silenced so easily. 

do wonder, Flora,” she said, ^‘whether 
we shall be able to induce papa to take us 
abroad, before we grow to be quite as old as 
Methuselah ?” 

Flora was about as uneasy as if she had fallen 
upon a bed of nettles, and her countenance ex- 
pressed her feelings. Pierrepont had resumed his 
letters, and, absorbed in them, took no note of the 
conversation ; but John, so silent yet so obser- 
vant, came to Flora’s rescue. 

Cousin Blanche,” he, asked quickly, did you 
ever know of any one starting for Europe and 
then turning back after getting about half-way 
across the ocean ?” 

Blanche looked up inquiringly. The question 
came so suddenly as instantly to arrest her atten- 


A EAINY DAT. 


233 


tion, and now she was trying to understand its exact 
meaning. 

Did tlie voyager change his mind ? And was 
tlie captain of the vessel so very obliging as to 
change its course to accommodate him V’ inquired 
Flora. 

The change was neither in the voyager nor the 
captain of the vessel, but in the wind,” replied 
John. 

Cousin John,” said Flora, very slowly, as if 
she were taking time to consider the matter, is 
it possible that you had a friend among those 
famous three wise men of Gotham, who went to 
see in a bowl ? From the sudden termination of 
the story, the mists of uncertainty that were al- 
lowed to hang around the voyagers, and the hints 
concerning the frailty of the conveyance they had 
chosen, I always imagined that the whole party 
had gone down into the depths of the sea ; but it 
is barely possible that one of the three may have 
been rescued by some returning vessel, and re- 
stored to the arms of his anxious friends.” 

No, I cannot claim acquaintance with either 
of the famous three,” he answered ; my friend 
chose a common and orthodox mode of crossing 


234 


FLORA MORRIS' CHOICE. 


the ocean — a staunch, well-built sailing vessel, 
and belonging to a popular line. He left home 
full of enthusiasm about what he should see while 
abroad, and expecting to be absent for a year; 
but, when about half-way over, a furious storm 
arose, the vessel was wrecked, and after suffering 
much pain and anxiety for two or three days, he 
was finally picked up by a ship returning to 
Boston.^’ 

Pierrepont, who had now finished his letters, 
was here reminded of a funny story in connection 
with a storm upon the Mediterranean, in which 
an extremely fussy, little, overdressed French lady 
held a conspicuous place. In a few moments he 
had his small audience listening attentively with 
amused and interested ears; even the selfish 
Blanche being diverted from her own peculiar 
sources of disquiet. 

The evening passed as pleasantly as the day 
to Flora. Her uncle was then added to the 
.social circle, but his presence increased rather 
than diminished the enjoyment; for, notwith- 
standing his grave solidity of manner, he was 
abundantly able not only to appreciate but also 
to take part in lively and cheerful conversation. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


THE MEriVAE. 

‘HE season was rapidly advancing towards 
its close. Most of the summer visitors 

f at Brighton had already taken their de- 
parture, and Blanche was looking eagerly 
forward to the time when she, too, should 
receive a summons to follow their example. 
During the height of the season the pulpit of the 
village church had been generally supplied by 
clergymen who were sojourning in the neighbor- 
hood; but now Mr. Lambert once more occupied 
his accustomed place. 

^Mt really is delightful,^^ Lucy said, ^^to get 
back again into the^old routine. For a large 
portion of the summer I feel almost as if I had 
been transported into some strange town, but I 
am always glad to find myself once more in dear 
old Brighton.’^ 

In listening to this speech Blanche experienced 

236 



236 


FLOE A MOEEm^ CHOICE. 


a feeling of pity, somewhat akin to contempt, 
towards her simple-minded cousin, whose tastes 
all ran on such an humble level; but Flora’s 
mind was full of strangely contradictory emo- 
tions. One moment she was regretting that she 
must so soon leave Brighton, grave and sober 
and stupid as she had at first been inclined to re- 
gard it; and the next she was indulging in eager 
anticipations of the winter’s gayety in the city, to 
which the visit of the Vestorie Troupe would add 
new zest. Again, when hearing Lucy’s interesting 
descriptions of the quiet enjoyments of Brighton, 
the thorough teachings of the Academy, and the 
wonderful talents and virtues of Mr. Hopkins, 
the principal, she would wish that she, too, might 
have, the advantages of such instructions; and 
perhaps the very next minute her thoughts would 
be running upon the brilliant amusements at her 
own home, and she would feehthat nothing could 
compensate her for the loss ^f these. 

In the mean time she was having an excellent 
opportunity of becoming acquainted with one of 
the principal modes of occupying the time during 
the winter at Brighton — that of attending church 
meetings. The return of Mr. Lambert to his 


THE REVIVAL. 


237 


own pulpit was marked by a very happy event. 
The Lord graciously answered the prayers of his 
people by sending down upon them the precious 
influences of his Holy Spirit. They fell silently 
as the dew upon the thirsty soil, and were no less 
powerful in their efiect for good. Life seemed to 
spring up suddenly from the hard and barren 
soil; dying blossoms were revived, and drooping 
buds held up their heads, rejoicing in new 
strength and beauty. There was no outward 
show or noisy demonstration. The work was 
inward, and proceeded quietly but surely, only 
evincing itself in the subdued tones, the solemn, 
earnest countenance, the bowed head, and the 
tearful eye. 

Extra evening meetings were held in answer to 
the apparent demand for them ; and, closely fol- 
lowing upon these, meetings for inquirers in the 
pastor’s study. 

It would be difficult to explain the position 
which Blanche occupied during this, to her, new 
and strange state of things. In extensive revi- 
vals of religion the influence generally pervades, 
to a certain extent, the entire community, and 
so it proved on this occasion. Many were deeply 


238 


FLORA MORRIS' CHOICE. 


impressed, and personal religion became a mat- 
ter of vital importance to them. Life and death 
were plainly set before them, and they felt 
obliged to choose between the two. A few very 
soon yielded to the voice of God speaking through 
their consciences, and chose the better part; but 
the larger portion remained long halting between 
two opinions — afraid to give up religion, yet still 
clinging tenaciously to the world. There were 
those who rose up in open opposition to the whole 
movement, denouncing it as mere excitement that 
would soon pass away, and sometimes using even 
harsher terms concerning it. There were not 
many of these in Brighton, and yet the class was 
not entirely without its representatives. Another 
division must still be described — those who were 
affected in a secondary way; upon whom the 
light appeared to fall only by reflection, and who 
only felt from sympathy with those around them. 
Blanche tried her best to keep entirely aloof from 
the whole matter, as something beneath her 
notice, and resolutely refused to attend the extra 
meetings. Still, she was unable altogether to resist 
the all-p^ervading influence, and sometimes Lucy 
hoped that her heart was really touched. But if 


THE REVIVAL. 


239 


this were the case, the impression must have been 
slight, and easily removed, for no trace of it 
appeared upon the surface. 

With Flora it was very different; from the 
very beginning she took a most decided stand. 
At first she openly opposed the movement, but 
before long found herself yielding to the silent 
influence, until at last she was numbered among 
the deeply anxious; and here she remained, bal- 
ancing in her mind the great question, ^‘What 
shall a man give in exchange for his soul?^^ 
Would the portion of worldly treasures which 
would probably fall to her share, and which now 
stood temptingly before her imagination in all 
their brilliant coloring, suffice to pay for a lost 
soul? The question was a startling one, but 
ought to have been easily answered. Strange, 
that^any human mind, gifted by its Creator with 
the ordinary amount of intelligence, should have 
required time to ponder over it! And yet how 
many such, after all, throw away this priceless 
treasure, involving their eternal welfare, only to 
secure a few months or years of careless mirth 
and vain amusement! Having never spoken of 
her feelings, Flora imagined them to be concealed 


240 


FLORA MORRIS* CHOICE. 


within her own breast; but here she was mis- 
taken. Her friends at Brighton were too much 
interested in her well-being not to observe the 
change which had taken place, yet they prudently 
resolved not to appear to notice it at present. She 
had yielded to the pressure so far as to attend the 
extra public services, but she had not yet gone to 
an inquiry meeting. 

One day during this period Flora was feeling 
very solemn from the effects of a most impressive 
address from Mr. Lambert, to which she had 
listened upon the previous evening. The text 
which he had used was, ‘^Flee from the wrath to 
come and all morning the subject had weighed 
heavily upon her. After dinner, according to her 
usual custom, she retired to her room with her 
sister. She expected that Blanche would soon 
fall asleep, and then she determined to seize the 
opportunity of reading a few chapters from '^The 
Way of Life,’’ a book which she had heard highly 
spoken of, and which had lain untouched upon 
the shelf in their chamber ever since they had 
taken possession of it. But, for some reason, 
Blanche appeared to be not only uncommonly 
wakeful, but also uncommonly loquacious. She 


THE REVIVAL. 


241 


lay tossing about upon the bed, chattering away 
like a raagpie upon the most trifling subjects, until 
poor Flora felt like stopping her ears to shut out 
the sound. 

“Can it be possible,’’ she murmured to herself, 
“that Blanche has been always so silly? and that 
I have ever been satisfied to listen to such vain 
talk?” 

Hoping that the flow would soon become ex- 
hausted, and determined to bear it as patiently as 
possible, she took up a band which she was em- 
broidering, and tried to fix her attention upon it. 
But the hope was vain, for, quite regardless of the 
evident inattention paid to her remarks, Blanche 
continued on in the same strain, pouring upon 
Flora’s uneasy brain that unceasing torrent of 
words which may be likened to a continual drop- 
ping. She had now struck upon a topic which 
seemed to be almost inexhaustible — Mr. La 
Farge, the French gentleman with whom she 
had waltzed at Niagara to Flora’s consternation. 
She rehearsed some of his most complimentary 
speeches to herself; the Parisian gossip with 
which he had entertained her; the descriptions of 
his father’s chateau, and his uncle’s vast estates, to 
16 


242 


FLORA MORRIS’ CHOICE. 


which he and his brother were sole heirs. The 
previous winter he had passed in Cuba and New 
Orleans; but the succeeding one he expected to 
spend in New York, and this, with the Yestorie 
Troupe, presented a prospect which was almost 
too overwhelming for the weak mind of Blanche 
to bear. 

Seeing no immediate hope of relief, and her 
small stock of patience being quite exhausted, 
Flora determined at last to take refuge in flight. 
She took down her garden hat, which hung in 
the wardrobe, and carefully concealing the book 
between two magazines, she prepared to carry out 
her intentions. 

‘‘Why, Flora! You certainly are not going out 
to walk at this time of day exclaimed Blanche, 
with an injured air. 

“ Yes, I am going out, and do not expect to 
return for an hour or two,” replied Flora, clos- 
ing the door aftei* her, without waiting for further 
remonstrance. 

She went directly to a secluded arbor in the 
garden, which she knew would be unoccupied at 
this hour, and commenced her reading. But it all 
seemed to be a sealed book to her; an impenetra- 


THE REVIVAL. 


243 


ble veil covered her mind, and she could not per- 
ceive its meaning. Still she read on, with a 
vague idea that in this way she might somehow 
secure her souFs salvation. An hour and more 
passed away, and she began to prepare for return- 
ing to the house, though feeling that she had not 
made much progress in the work before her. She 
had passed through the garden and around upon 
the front piazza, when she encountered Pierrepont 
coming from an opposite direction. He stopped 
instantly and said, 

have a favor to ask of you. Cousin Flora. 
Will you not go in to the inquiry meeting this 
evening 

Flora hesitated, and just then her Cousin Lucy 
appeared in the doorway. She was turning away 
when her brother beckoned to her : 

I want to persuade Cousin Flora to attend 
Mr. Lambert’s meeting to-night; you would go 
with her, I am sure, if she does not like to go 
alone.” 

Lucy gladly promised, and added her entrea- 
ties, but Flora still hesitated. Only a few 
minutes before she had been wishing for this very 
invitation, and now conscience urged her to accept 


244 


FLORA MORRIS' CHOICE. 


it, but pride held her back. She had thought 
that one word of encouragement would have been 
sufficient to have ensured the victory to con- 
science, but pride was more powerful than she had 
imagined. It would not be driven from the field 
so easily, and must make one more strong effort. 
It reminded her of her gay companions at home, 
and the cutting remarks which would be made 
upon her if it should ever be heard that she 
went to an inquiry meeting. And of what use 
would it be to her to go? There were many pro- 
fessors of religion, doubtless, who never had 
entered such a place and who never would do so 
— ladies and gentlemen who seemed to enjoy the 
world as much as any one ; who attended balls 
and operas ; and who, so far as she could see, dif- 
fered in no respect from herself, except in that 
one matter of going to the communion table. 
But her cousins were waiting for her decision. 

No, I cannot go,” she said. 

It may be your last opportunity,” urged Lucy, 
“ and pray do not lose it.” 

Flora had resumed the train of thought which 
had scarcely been interrupted by her answer and 
its response. The only professors of religion with 


TEE REVIVAL. 


245 


whom she was acquainted at home were those 
who visited at her father’s house and who freely- 
mingled with the gay world. What a strange 
contrast between these and her Brighton friends ! 
One or the other must be wrong. Which was it? 
She remembered the character of the great Apos- 
tle, which had struck her so forcibly as depicted 
in the first sermon which she had heard in Brigh- 
ton, and his own words as laid down in the text : 

This one thing I do ; forgetting those things that 
are behind, and reaching forth unto those things 
that are before, I press towards the mark for the 
prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.” 
Ah, if Mr. Lambert, and the Apostle Paul were 
right, then the others must be wrong. Paul and 
Mr. Lambert acted in accordance with .the rules 
laid down in the Bible, and the others yielded to 
the direction of their own selfish and worldly in- 
clinations. Her conscience told her that the de- 
cision which she was now called upon to make 
was not merely whether she would consent to ap- 
pear occasionally, at stated intervals, at the com- 
munion table, but whether she were willing to 
give up the world for Christ; to bring her own 
will in subjection to his; to take up the cross, and 


246 FLORA MORRIS' CEOICE. 

to follow him through good and evil report. She 
might attempt to draw agreeable conclusions from 
the conduct of false or careless professors of re- 
ligion, but she knew in her own heart wliat God 
required of her, and her conscience told her that 
here her duty lay. 

“ ^Now is the accepted time,’’^ urged Pierrepont. 
^^Do not, I entreat you, put this matter oflP, for 
you have no promise of to-morrow, and then it 
may be too late.” 

Too late ! The sound echoed through her ears 
like a death-knell. She knew all the chagrin 
and disappointment of being too late for an ap- 
pointment or a public conveyance; and once she 
had seen a man drowned in the dock because 
assistance came too late. Oh! it was terrible to 
think of it, even now, when it came- to her 
merely in the form of a recollection. He had 
fallen overboard from a boat near to the one upon 
whose deck she was standing. The scene was 
thrilling and exciting, but nothing more, for help 
was so very near that she never once doubted the 
possibility of his being rescued. He could not 
swim, but he struggled for his life. Popes were 
thrown out, but failed to reach him. A boat was 


TEE HEVIVAL. 


247 


pushed off, but just as it came within grasp he 
sank under the waves, and was seen no more. 
Salvation came just too late for him. It was 
very dreadful, and. yet, after all, this might have 
been only temporal death to him. In her own 
case it was eternal death from which she was seek- 
ing to escape. To be too late for that would be a 
fearful fate, from which there could be no rescue. 
These reflections passed swiftly through her mind, 
for thought is wonderful in its rapidity. They 
had their effect, however, for when one feels him- 
self to be in real danger, pride occupies a very 
subordinate position. The most sensitive man in 
the world, if fleeing from an angry lion, will not 
be apt to regard the criticisms which may be 
passed upon his want of dignity or the inele- 
gance of his movements. 

I will go with you if you do not like to go 
alone,’' said Lucy; '^and Mr. Lambert is so very 
kind that I am sure you can never regret it.” 

“ I will go,” replied Flora. 

With this promise she left them and once 
more sought her own room, where she had barely 
time to make the necessary changes in her dress 
when the bell rang for tea. 


248 


FLORA MORRIS' CHOICE. 


The services of the evening were very solemn, 
and the small lecture-room was crowded with an 
attentive audience. As one upon whom a neces- 
sity is laid, Flora fulfilled her promise of remain- 
ing for the inquiry meeting. These exercises con- 
sisted of a hymn, a prayer, and a few remarks, 
rather more personal in their application than 
those which preceded them ; and after these op- 
portunity was offered by Mr. Lambert for private 
conversation with such as desired it. Flora 
placed herself among the latter. The cry of her 
heart was, What shall I do to be saved The 
answer came, ‘^Believe on the Lord Jesus 
Christ,^^ but* it failed to satisfy her. Simply to 
believe, to throw off the flimsy robe of self- 
righteousness with which she was striving to 
cover herself, and submit her sin-stained soul to 
be cleansed entirely by the blood of Christ, did 
not at all accord with her preconceived ideas of 
salvation. So the pastor’s advice fell powerless 
upon the ears. And yet her attendance at the 
meeting was not without its good effects, nor were 
the words to which she had listened quite lost. 
She had taken an important step in the right 
direction, in placing herself among those who were 


THE REVIVAL. 


249 


seeking for the road that leads to heaven ; and 
the seeds of truth, although hidden from sight, 
and scarcely discernible from the hard, cold soil 
in which they lay, blessed by the God of the 
harvest, might yet bring forth abundant fruit. 
The difficulty with which she was called upon to 
contend was neither new nor uncommon ; and the 
question and advice which followed were as ap- 
plicable to her as they had been in days of old to 
Naaman the Syrian : “ If the prophet had bid 
thee do some great thing, wouldst thou not have 
done it? How much rather, then, when he saith 
to thee. Wash and be clean 

Upon leaving the lecture-room the girls found 
Pierrepont waiting for them. Frank Carter and 
Helen Edmonds were among the number of in- 
quirers; but Frank walked home alone, and 
Helen with her father, each feeling that there 
was a propriety in this. Flora and her cousins 
walked quietly onward for a short distance, and 
then Flora broke the silence by saying, suddenly 
and energetically, 

“I have come to one decision. Cousin Pierre- 
pont, which is this ; I will never dance again as 
long as I live.^^ 


250 


FLORA MORRIS* CHOICE. 


'‘But I thought you did not consider dancing 
in moderation as having any evil tendency ?” he 
replied. 

He could scarcely forbear smiling at the unex- 
pected decision and the very emphatic manner 
with which it was pronounced. 

"Well, perhaps not in moderatiorij’’ she an- 
swered; "but then I could not practice it in 
moderation, nor do I believe that this could ever 
be done by one who is really fond of dancing. 
At any rate, I cannot see just now how I can 
possibly be a true and devoted Christian, such as 
I now desire to be, and at the same time indulge 
even moderately in dancing, the opera, or theatre.” 

The last words were spoken earnestly and em- 
phatically as the first, and her cousins rejoiced to 
hear them, as a proof that Flora was not then 
attempting to make a fatal compromise between 
the world and religion. 

When we open our hearts to receive them, how 
quickly will the rays of Divine light dispel the 
mists which our own evil inclinations have drawn 
around the line of duty! All the arguments 
which had once appeared so strong to Flora, and 
with which she had striven to save her favorite 


THE REVIVAL. 


251 


amusements, now fell from their sandy founda- 
tions, leveled to the earth by one touch of 
Divine truth. 

Pierrepont followed up her last remark by a 
few earnest and impressive words, urging her to 
pray to God, who only could enlighten her and 
grant this desire of her heart. They had now 
reached the house, and Flora immediately retired 
to her own room, where she was not sorry to find 
Blanche fast asleep in bed. 

This was a most important night to Flora. It 
was chiefly spent in prayer and contemplation of 
the remarks which she had heard during the 
evening, for she scarcely closed her eyes in sleep. 
God kindly gave her the light which she needed. 
She did not feel then that she had been converted, 
nor did she inquire of herself whether this were so 
or not. She only knew that she had come to the 
determination to serve the Lord, even though it 
should lead her to forsaking all that she loved. 
Nor did she waver in this determination as the 
days passed on ; but she doubted her own strength, 
which a return to fo;rmer scenes of gayety would 
put to so early and severe a test. ‘‘ Oh ! that I 
could only remain, and go to school at Brighton 


262 


FLORA MORRIS* CHOICE. 


for this one winter was so often repeated to her- 
self and talked over to Lucy, that what at first 
had been the promptings of a vague and sudden 
impulse, began to assume such an attractive and 
probable form that she determined to make the 
request in a letter to her mother. She did this 
very cautiously, from prudential motives, making 
no allusion to the great change which she had ex- 
perienced. Blanche, of course, could not remain 
ignorant of this, but Blanche was not very much 
disturbed by it. Flora had always been incom- 
prehensible to her, and she looked upon it only 
as another of her singular fancies, which would 
vanish when they returned to the city, and not 
worth talking about. 



CHAPTER XV. 



FJLOItA>S LETTEM, AND ITS EESUIT. 

)RS. WILLIAM MORRIS was seated in 
a parlor of one of the largest hotels of 
Saratoga one morning, conversing with 
Mrs. Adger, a lady from Boston. She had 
only returned to the Springs on the pre- 
vious afternoon from a Western trip to Niagara, 
and expected to remain there for about a week or 
two longer, which w^ould end her summer’s tour. 
The morning’s mail was about being distributed, 
and the ladies were looking for letters. They were 
not disappointed, for presently Mr. Morris ad- 
vanced with a parcel in his hand — one for his 
wife, two for Mrs. Adger, and the remainder for 
himself. He left them for the gentleman’s piazza, 
where he might read and smoke at the same time, 
while they hastily opened their letters. Mrs. 
Adger’s have no special interest to us, but Mrs. 
Morris’ was from Flora, and its reception concerns 

253 


254 


FLORA MORRIS^ CHOICE. 


our story. It consisted of four well-filled pages, 
and, as is often the case, the most important items 
were left to the last. She spoke of the really 
pleasant summer which she had passed, notwith- 
standing her fears ; of the very excellent health 
which she and her sister and brother had enjoyed, 
and only hoped their parents had been equally 
well. This was most gratifying to the reader, for, 
although a fashionable and faulty mother, Mrs. 
Morris was not an unloving one, and had more 
than once felt some qualms of conscience lest she 
might be enjoying herself at her children’s ex- 
pense. She had tried to satisfy these reproaches 
with the consideration that it had all been done 
for their good, but this did not quiet them, for it 
was not true. It had been taken up as a fortu- 
nate after-thought, and selfishness had originated 
the idea of sending them to Brighton. 

Flora then went on to praise her uncle’s 
family, and tried to particularize in doing so, but 
after expressing the highest admiration of Pierre- 
pont and Lucy, as if there was some special charm 
resting upon these two, she attempted a descrip- 
tion of her uncle, aunt, and Cousin John. Here, 
too, her superlatives flowed as freely as ever, and 


FLORA'S LETTER AND ITS RESULTS. 255 

it would have been difficult to find out which had 
obtained the highest place in her estimation. 
Feeling in a remarkably good-humor with her- 
self, Mrs. Morris smilingly exclaimed, looking up 
from her letter: 

This is so exactly like Flora ! Her dealings 
are altogether with the superlative.’^ 

Mrs. Adger had finished her first letter and 
was replacing it in the envelope. 

think I prefer such dispositions,” she said; 
one is more apt to find good in them than in 
those who are indifferent to everything but them- 
selves.” 

Flora is certainly not selfish,” Mrs. Morris re- 
turned. 

She resumed her reading, and presently reached 
the important point — her daughter’s request to be 
allowed to remain at Brighton for the winter and 
go to school with Lucy, A second ejaculation 
was the consequence, but this time it was much 
more expressive of surprise than amusement. 
Mrs. Adger’s second letter was of a purely busi- 
ness nature, and after a hasty glance, which was 
sufficient to inform her of its contents, she placed 
this also in its envelope. And now she looked 


256 


FLORA MORRIS* CHOICE. 


inquiringly towards her companion upon hearing 
her exclamation of astonishment. 

Flora has taken such a singular fancy !” said 
Mrs. Morris, in explanation ; and then she pro- 
ceeded to tell the story. 

Mrs. Adger listened attentively, and with even 
more interest than the occasion might seem to 
demand. She had three sons, but no daughters, 
her only girl having died at the early age of ten 
years ; and as she had none to exhibit in public, 
she was at perfect liberty to observe and criticise 
those who had. Her keenness in this respect was 
considerably sharpened by anxiety for her sons, 
whose future welfare in life, she knew, must de- 
pend very much on the sort of wives they should 
select. Her mind had been considerably dis- 
turbed by this reflection as she looked over the 
list of young ladies of her acquaintance. In her 
own youthful days, the very expressive term 
fast’’ was almost universally applied to a certain 
class of young men ; and if here and there a young 
girl might be made the recipient of the title, she 
proved a rare exception to the general rule ; but 
now the term seemed to be equally applicable to 
both sexes. She was very much shocked at this 


FLOBA’S LETTER. 


257 


state of things. A fast young man was bad 
enough, but a fast young girl far worse. So per- 
haps, on the whole, her censures to mothers upon 
their folly in allowing this freedom to their 
daughters were rather more severe than they 
would have been had her own children been 
daughters instead of sons. Still, she had reached 
a pretty correct conclusion, notwithstanding the 
process through which it was reached. One who 
stands upon the brink of the stream, a mere 
looker-on, can generally judge better of the dan- 
gerous effects of a vortex than he who is already 
in the current. 

I should think your daughter Flora must be 
an uncommonly sensible girl,” she said, when 
Mrs. Morris had finished her statement. “By 
some means she has reached a point of wisdom 
which is but seldom gained by her elders. It is 
really distressing to see the sort of young ladies 
who are being introduced into society now-a-days. 
The tendency of our fashionable schools seems to 
be to promote rather than check vanity and ex- 
travagance.” 

Here Mrs. Adger, launching off upon her 
favorite topic, grew quite eloquent at the ex- 


258 


FLORA MORRIS’ CHOICE. 


pense of fashionable mothers and fashionable 
daughters, until the astonishment with which 
Mrs. Morris had regarded Flora’s request bid fair 
to be lost in the greater astonishment inspired by 
Mrs. Adger’s remarks. She listened quietly and 
respectfully, for Mrs. Adger’s opinions were very 
valuable in her eyes, as the lady could boast of 
wealth, high position, and a spotless family re- 
cord. Her ancestors had not only come over in 
the Mayflower, but they had left noble kindred 
behind them in the Old World, who even yet 
willingly acknowledged the relationship, not only 
by letters and social intercourse, but in the more 
substantial form of legacies. 

‘‘But, my dear Mrs. Adger,” she reasoned, 
when the lady had finished her arguments, “ there 
is a certain style of manners that is really neces- 
sary to a young lady’s advancement in society ; and 
where is this to be obtained ?” 

“At hom^, from her mother,” replied Mrs. 
Adger, laconically. 

Mrs. Morris winced at this remark. Her 
own manners were certainly very good, for she 
had a large amount of tact, and was very aplf in 
acquiring the habits which she admired in others ; 


FLOBA'S LETTER, 259 

9 

but, unfortunately for herself, she could never for- 
get that her early position in life was not what it 
now was. She thought more of this than was 
necessary, and the difference was really less in 
Mrs. Adger’s eyes than she imagined. I mention 
the remembrance of it as a misfortune, because it 
often led her to overdo the matter, and rush into 
foolish Expenses and fashionable extremes, merely 
for the sake of endeavoring to hide beneath all 
this rubbish an humble origin, which was in 
reality far more respectable than the mode by 
which she undertook to conceal it. 

‘^Do you mean to say,’^ she inquired, with in- 
creased surprise, that it is of no consequence 
what sort of a school my daughters attend?’’ 

‘‘Not at all, my dear madam,” replied Mrs. 
Adger; “on the contrary, it is of the highest im- 
portance. They should not be sent where they 
will be transformed into mere dolls with joints 
and machinery, which at a certain touch may be 
made to play off to advantage before admiring 
crowds; but where they will be- moulded into 
sensible, well-informed women, who can fill any 
position in life properly and with credit to them- 
selves and their teachers. In my opinion, this 


260 


FLORA MORRIS^ CHOICE. 


last can be accomplished better at some plain, 
solid school, such as your daughter describes, than 
most of our fashionable French educational estab- 
lishments. I know something of Brighton; I 
passed a few weeks in the place, and I have 
friends who once lived there; and if I had a 
daughter, and could consent to have her leave 
home to be educated, I should not feel the slighest 
hesitation in sending her there.’’ 

The arrival of two ladies from another hotel, 
callers upon Mrs. Adger, here put an end to the 
conversation, leaving Mrs. Morris to ponder upon 
it at her leisure. The argument brought to bear 
upon the subject was very weighty, not only in 
itself, but in the source from which it came ; yet 
she was not convinced by it. She still clung 
fondly to the prevailing opinion, and could not 
give up the plan which she had adopted of giv- 
ing her daughters a fashionable education. This 
was not yet quite accomplished, but so far as it 
had advanced, she had been somewhat disap- 
pointed in the results. She occupied a similar 
position to that of. some unsuccessful artist. 
Blanche was very impressible, and could bo 
moulded almost at will ; but the material in this 


FLORALS LETTER. 


261 


instance was not of the finest quality. With 
Flora it was widely different. Here was the 
proper stuff, but the difficulty was in the mould- 
ing; she would not take the pattern which her 
mother considered most desirable, and into which 
she had been trying to form her. Sometimes she 
would think that she had succeeded, but, just 
wlien her hopes were at their very highest, some 
unexpected development on Flora’s part would 
prove that she was mistaken ; and she had well- 
nigh begun to despair of her. Now, as she re- 
membered these disappointments,. she added them 
to Mrs. Adger’s arguments, but all together were 
insufficient to turn the balance. 

Mr. Morris had been very much engrossed 
with the contents of his own letters, and had sat- 
isfied himself with merely inquiring how the 
children were, and what was the news from 
Brighton, without asking to see Flora’s. His 
wife did not consult him about the request that 
it contained, because his ideas upon the subject of 
their daughters’ education differed very widely 
from her own. So the all-important question to 
Flora was laid over to be decided upon some 
future day. 


262 


FLORA MORRIS^ CHOICE. 


The following morning Mrs. Morris was in her 
own room, busily engaged in making some altera- 
tions upon the trimming of a dress which she ex- 
pected to wear at dinner, when her husband 
entered. She looked up hastily from her work, 
and saw from his disturbed countenance that 
something unusual had occurred. He did not wait 
for the question which her lips were forming, but 
producing a small slip of paper from his vest 
pocket, said, quickly ; 

Here, Maria, is a telegram which I have just 
received from Marks, calling for my immediate 
presence at home.” 

What in the world is the matter with Marks ?” 
she asked, pettishly. 

“ Marks” was Mr. Morris’ head clerk and chief 
manager of the business during his absence. Mrs. 
Morris thought that he had had the presumption 
to get sick at a most inappropriate time, and it 
annoyed her exceedingly; for the unexpected re- 
turn home threatened sadly to disarrange all her 
household plans. She was quite satisfied that 
Marks should be prime minister in her husband’s 
office, always provided that this in no way inter- 


FLORA’S LETTER. 


263 


fered with the home province, which belonged to 
herself alone. 

‘^The difficulty is not with Marks,” Mr. 
Morris replied, “or it might be easily settled. But 
a firm in which we are deeply involved has 
stopped payment, and I fear we must suffer in 
consequence. I have been prepared for some- 
thing of the kind, but the reality is far worse 
than my anticipations.” 

She turned upon him a startled look, not 
knowing but this might mean ruin to the thriv- 
ing business which ,was supplying them with 
abundant means for all the luxuries of life, which 
were everything to her. 

“ It is too late,” he continued, “ for me to 
catch the train from Albany, but I can go down 
in the night-boat, and reach New York in time 
for the morning’s business. You had better pack 
what things I shall need in my valise imme- 
diately. 

“ But you cannot stay in the empty house,” 
she remonstrated ; “ and I wrote only yesterday 
to Jane about getting it cleaned, and trying to 
find me a new set of servants. I can rely posi- 
tively upon Jane, you know.” 


264 


FLORA MORRIS' CHOICE. 


My sudden return to the city,” he replied, 
‘‘need not interfere in the least with your ar- 
rangements. You had better remain here for the 
present and carry out your original plans; I 
can stop at the Brevoort until they are completed, 
and shall be ready to receive you all when you 
come home.” 

He spoke mildly and calmly, all the while 
packing up various little toilet articles, in his 
dressing-case ; and his wife looked over his linen 
to select what might may be needed. The be- 
havior of both was in very great contrast to what 
it had been upon the first occasion when they 
were introduced to our notice. Then Mr. Morris’ 
mind was clouded by gloomy anticipations. He 
thought he could perceive the evil advancing, but 
he could do nothing to prevent it, and must be 
satisfied simply to hide his fears in his own 
bosom and fold his hands in idleness. This was 
about the hardest task that could have been im- 
posed upon one of his active disposition, and one 
which chafed him continually. Now, however, 
when it had really come upon him, he could both 
talk and act, and with this relief to his spirits he 


FLORA’S LETTER. 


265 


could throw off all restraint, and nerve himself 
to meet it like a man. His wife, too, was bear- 
ing it with far greater equanimity than she had 
done petty troubles, which were scarcely worth 
the name. 

Just so it often happens. There i% something 
elevating in great trials, which strengthens us to 
submit to them, while we succumb to the trifling 
every-day cares of life as if we were really inca- 
pable of resistance. Only yesterday the husband 
and wife had held quite an altercation upon the 
very small matter of an afternoon’s drive, yet 
now they were prepared to act amicably in an af- 
fair which was fraught with far more of difficulty 
and annoyance to both. 

I hope that I shall be able,” Mr. Morris said, 
after a short silence, ‘Ho keep my head above 
water; but for this winter, Maria, we shall be 
obliged to use the strictest economy, and under 
the most difficult circumstances, too, for it will 
not do to appear to change our style of living 
very materially.” 

Here Mrs. Morris breathed more freely. She 
did not mind the sacrifices which she must make 
so much as she did the criticisms of the world. 


266 


FLORA 'MORRIS' CHOICE. 


If the world could be kept ignorant of it, she 
thought she might bear all the rest. 

‘^The matter of the carriage has settled itself,’^ 
he went on to say, ^‘for all our friends know that 
I have sold our' horses, with the hope of getting 
better on^. These are always difficult to pro- 
cure, and I mean to be very hard to please. The 
household expenditures I must trust entirely to 
your guidance.’’ 

Economy was not an agreeable word to Mrs. 
Morris, but she was fruitful in resources, and 
quite equal to the emergency, with that dreadful 
bugbear, the opinion of the world, taken out of 
the way. 

I can easily manage with one servant less, 
which will make some reduction,” she said, al- 
most cheerfully; '‘but the children’s education 
unfortunately is just now very expensive; and — ” 
here she hesitated, as the recollection of Flora’s 
request suddenly occurred to her, and then pre- 
sently continued: 

“That reminds me, my dear, of something in 
Flora’s letter of yesterday, about which I in- 
tended to consult you. She is very anxious 
to be allowed to remain at Brighton next 


FLORA’S LETTER. 


267 


winter, for the purpose of attending school with 
Lucy.” 

Mr. Morris had one hand upon the lid of the 
dressing-box and the other on the key, but he 
paused before turning it to look up in astonish- 
ment. His own affairs, important as they were, 
were forgotten for a moment in the surprise occa- 
sioned by this intelligence. 

‘^Are you quite sure that she is in earnest?” 
he asked. 

She handed him the letter, designating the 
proper place with her finger, and saying. 

There, you can read it for yourself.” 

^‘Well, I am sure I do not see that we can do 
better than consent,” he said, as he returned the 
letter. ^‘She certainly seems very happy there, 
and I feel sure that the academy must be under 
the very best direction, for Lucy would do credit 
to any institution. You may miss Flora, but 
then you will have Blanche, and. you will know 
that Flora is contented and in good hands.” 

He made no allusion to missing her himself, 
for Mr. Morris, like many other men of business, 
was so entirely engrossed with out-door cares as 
to make the absence of one member of the home 


268 


FLORA MORRIS’ CHOICE. 


circle a matter of less importance to him than it 
ought to have been. For himself, he was far 
more than satisfied with the prospect. He had 
been impressed at times with the notion that there 
were other acquirements than those taught at 
school, which his daughters ought to learn to 
qualify them to be really useful and estimable 
women. His ideas were rather vague with regard 
to this something, but he supposed it might be to 
darn stockings, bake a loaf of bread, or sweep a 
room; yet as the acquisition of such knowledge 
might interfere with the province of the seam- 
stress, cook, or chambermaid, he saw no reason- 
able prospect of accomplishing it at home, and did 
not like to suggest it to his wife. Now, however, 
his uneasiness might end, so far as Flora was 
concerned. His sister-in-law was the very best 
person to attend to this, and the number of ser- 
vants could prove no obstacle at Brighton. He 
would have one daughter, at least, thoroughly in- 
structed in all the duties pertaining to woman’s 
sphere, and the idea was very pleasant to him. 
Then, too. Flora’s expenses would be lessened 
considerably by this arrangement — a very impor- 
tant consideration under the circumstances. If 


FLORA'S LETTER. 


269 


his business difficulties should produce no worse 
change than this one, he might hail it as a bless- 
ing in disguise. 

Mrs. Morris was gratified, too, but for other 
reasons than those which influenced her husband. 
She was glad of an opportunity to please Mrs. 
Adger (whose good opinion she valued highly) at 
so cheap a rate ; and in anticipating the satisfac- 
tion she would have in informing that lady that 
she had concluded to take her advice, she forgot 
for a time the unfortunate motive which com- 
pelled her to do so. 

The key was turned in the dressing-case, the 
valise was packed, and conversation still flowed 
freely between the husband and wife. They 
talked over domestic matters — how soon it would 
be possible to have their house made ready for 
occupation; the probable time when Mrs. Morris 
should leave the Springs; when their children 
should be sent for; and about Flora’s return to 
Brighton. It was only considered proper that 
Mrs. Morris should write first to her sister-in-law, 
inquiring whether the plan would be agreeable to 
her, before giving a decided answer to Flora. 
Yet this was regarded as a mere matter of form, 


270 FLOBA MOBBTS* CHOICE. 

as from the manner in which Flora wrote it 
was easy to see that the family were not only 
aware of her intention, but equally anxious that 
her request should be granted. 

When these household affairs were all settled, 
they spoke of other things, in which they had no 
very deep personal interest, until Mr. Morris was 
quite astonished at himself. He could not have 
believed it possible for him to be conversing in 
this easy manner under such untoward circum- 
stances. Yet this is not unfrequently the case, 
and may serve as an illustration of the goodness 
of God, who is kind even to the unthankful in 
giving him strength to bear the burden which 
has been laid upon him. 

A servant now came to the door to announce 
that the early dinner was ready, and he went 
down stairs to eat, hastily, merely enough to sat- 
isfy the demands of nature. His wife accom- 
panied him to the table, and when the meal was 
over waited upon the piazza until she saw him 
seated in the omnibus which would convey him 
to the depot. Then she turned away, and sought 
her own room once more to dress for the usual 
table d’hdte, and arrange at the same time, to her 


FLORA'S LETTER. 


271 


own satisfaction, how she should best meet the 
inquiries which would probably be made concern- 
ing her husband’s sudden return to the city. 

And now alone, left entirely to her own reflec- 
tions, with the excitement consequent upon first 
hearing the news passing away, Mrs. Morris 
began to realize the true state of things. She 
would not allow herself to believe for one mo- 
ment that Mr. Morris’ expectation of being 
‘‘able to keep his head above water” could possi- 
bly be disappointed ; but still she must economize, 
and the idea was suggestive of many little do- 
mestic annoyances. Economy to her meant the 
making over of old dresses, in the vain effort to 
make them look as good as new ; the giving of 
no large parties, and even occasionally^ being 
obliged to refuse invitations from others, simply 
because, like Flora McFlimsey, one has “nothing 
to wear.” The real excuse not being of such 
a nature as to make it available for the public, it 
would be necessary to manufacture a suitable one, 
which was an extremely difficult matter some- 
times; but this must be done for economy’s sake. 
The prospect certainly looked very gloomy to her 
now as she leisurely surveyed it, and her anticipa- 


272 


FLORA MORRm CHOICE. 


tions for the future sank under a heavy cloud, 
The only bright spot which met her eye was 
Florals projected stay at Brighton. It had its 
disadvantages, of course; but these just now 
were more than counterbalanced by the certainty 
that it would tend greatly to lessen her expenses 
for the coming winter. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

ONCE MORE AT HOME. 

f $N due time Flora received the letter announ- 
j cing that, as she seemed so anxious to go to 

? school at Brighton, she had full permission to 
try the experiment for the winter. Blanche 
could scarcely believe that either her mother 
or sister was in earnest, and when the conviction 
was forced upon her, I regret to say that the pros- 
pect of separation from Flora was by no means 
distasteful to her. She was fully aware of the 
^act of Flora’s mental superiority, notwithstand- 
ing that the advantage of years was on her own 
side, and she chafed under the strong influence 
which was too often exerted to restrain her folly. 
It was really a matter of rejoicing to her that 
this was about being removed, and she left at lib- 
erty to follow her own inclination. 

The day fixed for leaving Brighton at length 
arrived. Blanche was delighted at the thought 
18 273 


274 


FLORA MORRIS^ CHOICE. 


of indulging once more in the gayeties of her 
city home, and Flora was happy in the hope of 
returning again to her uncle^s family at the end 
of a few weeks. Willie professed himself to be 
perfectly miserable at first; but a kind and cor- 
dial invitation for the next summer, which he 
instantly and unconditionally accepted, comforted 
him with bright anticipations and turned the 
current of his feelings completely. 

We will pass lightly over the short time that 
was necessary to prepare Flora’s outfit for a 
winter in Brighton. Mrs. Morris was very 
busily engaged in attending to this and other 
matters consequent upon her return to her home 
after so long an absence; yet she was not too 
much occupied to observe a change in Flora. 
She found her more amiable than usual, and no- 
ticed that she attended the afternoon service of 
the church as well as the morning — a most un- 
common practice in the family. She was inclined 
to attribute this to ill-health, but the ruddy glow 
upon the cheek, the cheerful countenance, and un- 
failing energy put an end to the idea at once. 
Then she considered it as a Brighton peculiarity 
which had attached itself to her just now, but 


ONCE MORE AT HOME. 


275 


which would leave her as soon as she was again 
permanently at home ; and as no reasonable objec- 
tion could be made to it, she concluded to let it 
pass unnoticed. 

Flora was much moved with regard to Blanche. 
With her new views of the great importance of 
personal religion, and with the love of Christ 
constraining her, she could not bear the idea of 
separating from this only sister without giving 
her one word of persuasion to the path of life. 
Day after day went by, yet still she could not 
nerve her resolution to the proper point. The 
last evening of her stay at home came, and she 
was transferring some small articles of dress 
from her drawers to the tray of her trunk. She 
sighed several times, and Blanche, who was in 
the room at the time, heard her, and looking 
steadily in her face, saw the disturbed and mourn- 
ful expression which rested upon it. She could 
imagine but one reason for this — regret at the 
choice which she had made ; and acting under the 
impulse of the moment, with an amiable desire 
to help her, she said, kindly: 

If you have changed your mind. Flora, 
about going back to Brighton, do not hesitate to 


276 


FLORA MORRIS’ CHOICE. 


say so, for I am sure there would be no difficulty 
in your staying at home. Mamma, of course, 
would be glad of it, and papa could make it all 
right with Uncle George and Mr. Hopkins.” 

Flora looked up inquiringly. Not being aware 
how much of her uneasiness of mind was ex- 
pressed upon her countenance, she could not im- 
agine by what process Blanche had found out that 
she had any cause for disturbance. Then, sud- 
denly impressed with the idea that this might be 
the very best opportunity which she could have 
for speaking out the feelings of her heart, she 
said: 

‘^You are mistaken, dear Blanche, in thinking 
that I do not want to go back to Brighton. I am 
only distressed upon your account. I cannot bear 
the thought of leaving you careless and uncon- 
cerned about your souFs salvation. Jesus died to 
secure it, and will you not — ” 

Here she was suddenly interrupted by Blanche. 

Flora!” she exclaimed, with a decision of 
manner unusual to her, if you persist in annoy- 
ing me with this kind of talk, I shall regard it 
as a duty to go instantly to mamma and inform 
her of the ridiculous fancies which those Brigh- 


ONCE MORE AT HOME. 


277 


ton people have put into your head ; and if I do, 
she will never suffer you to go back to them.” 

Flora’s eyes instinctively turned towards her 
sister, and she was astonished at the wonderful 
change which was visible in her features. Every 
trace of softness and sympathy was gone, and 
instead she beheld an angry glare which startled 
her. She could not imaging how the few earnest 
words which she had uttered could have sufficed 
to call forth such feelings, not understanding the 
deadly enmity which too often exists in the hu- 
man heart towards sacred things. With an in- 
ward prayer for help from that heavenly Source 
upon which she was learning to depend in every 
difficulty, she managed to say, calmly; 

am sorry that I have displeased you, 
Blanche. I only spoke with a desire to benefit 
you. When one is seen to be in danger, it is only 
regarded as kind to give him warning ; and if the 
words in which it is done are not as well chosen 
as they might be, the good intention is considered 
as sufficient to excuse that.” 

‘‘I do not see that I am in any danger,” re- 
plied Blanche ; “ and if I were, I am able to take 
care of myself.” 


278 FLOUA MORRIS^ CMOICR. 

The very worst dangers/’ Flora answered, 
are those which we do not see, and from which 
we cannot save ourselves, but must seek a stronger 
help. We do not need to trust to our own efforts 
where the soul is concerned, for Jesus will do all 
that is needed for us.” 

Not another word of this,” repeated Blanche, 
with the angry flush still upon her face ; not 
another word, or I go this very instant to mamma, 
and tell her all about it.” 

Concluding that she could do no good to her 
sister in her present state, and dreading the conse- 
quence of a fulfillment of her threat, Flora re- 
turned no answer to the last remark, but ceased 
her pleadings. The arrangement of the trunk-tray 
being now completed, she began to prepare for 
bed, by reading a few verses from a small pocket 
Bible, the gift of her aunt Mary; and then 
kneeling down committed herself, her sister, 
and all who were near and dear to her, with all 
their varied interests, to the care of Him whom 
she trusted. 

The next morning — Saturday — saw Flora 
seated in the cars on her way to Brighton, in 
charge of Mr. Norton, to whose guardianship 


Ojvas MORE AT SOME. 


279 


even her mother could frame no objection. At 
the landing she found friends waiting to receive 
and welcome her, and she felt more like one who 
is returning home than one who is absent from 
it. Her school duties commenced on the follow- 
ing Monday, and when these were not engaging 
her attention, there were other profitable and 
pleasant occupations to do so. There were 
sewing-societies, lectures, the singing-school, and 
social gatherings, in all of which she very soon 
came to take as deep an interest as Lucy. There 
were occasions when she missed the gay excite- 
ments of her former life, yet she did not grieve 
after them or regret the part which she had 
chosen; and if the opportunity of returning to 
the gay world had been ofiered her, she would 
not have accepted it. 



CHAPTER XVd. 


MUS. GROSVENOR RAYMOND. 

WILLIAM MORRIS endeavored 
practice faithfully the rules of domes- 
economy which she had laid down 
■ herself upon first hearing of her 
sband’s business difficulties. As far as 
practicable, these were strictly confined to the in- 
ternal arrangements of her household, so that 
very few of her friends suspected any retrench- 
ment. The number of servants was reduced and 
Blanche was withdrawn from school; the first 
change proved to be a great annoyance to the 
young lady herself, while the latter was extremely 
satisfactory. Her mother gave it out as her in- 
tention that her daughter was to study the higher 
branches at home, under the care of private 
teachers. But the private teachers never ap- 
peared. They were talked about for a while, and 
the merits of various candidates were freely dis- 




MRS. GROSVENOR RAYMOND. 281 

cussed, but gradually the subject was dropped, 
and Blanche was allowed to follow the bent of 
her own inclinations, which certainly had not the 
slightest tendency to study. 

Mr. Morris, in the mean time, was very deeply 
engrossed with business, using all his skill and 
energy to ^^heep his head above water , and with 
apparently every probability of succeeding. Every 
other duty seemed to be forgotten in this one great 
object. Not one hour did he spare from it for the 
benefit of his immortal soul; nor did the home 
circle possess sufficient attraction to draw him 
away from this one absorbing interest. 

Among Mrs. Morris’ acquaintances was a Mrs. 
Grosvenor Raymond, a widow lady in middle 
life. She was wealthy and of high social con- 
nections, but so excessively gay and so free in 
her manners as to have given occasion for rumors 
not very creditable to her character. Still, being 
a handsome and agreeable person, who gave ele- 
gant entertainments and visited in the most aris- 
tocratic circles, she found a large number of 
persons ready to excuse her upon the plea that, 
having lived abroad for several years and having 
formed her manners after a different standard, she 


282 


FLORA MORRIS’ CHOICE. 


was not understood on this side of the Atlantic. 
The difference between herself and those who 
condemned her was said to be local rather than 
moral; and what appeared trifling and objection- 
able in her behavior was pronounced as simply 
European. Among her warmest defenders was 
Mrs. Morris, who was in reality rather proud of 
the acquaintance; and as the lady had latterly 
taken a violent fancy for Blanche, Blanche was 
allowed to be with her almost constantly. The 
principal reason for this fancy was that a young 
and beautiful face had the power of attracting 
towards it those upon whom Mrs. Raymond’s 
more mature charms had lost their influence, and 
whose society she was not yet ready to resign. 
Then, too, Blanche was pliant and yielding, and 
capable of being bent at will by Mrs. Raymond, 
for whom she had a great admiration — a compli- 
ment which is always sure to be appreciated. 

Mrs. Raymond was enthusiastically fond of 
theatrical amusements, and would go off into rap- 
tures over her favorite performers ; and Blanche, 
whose sluggish nature was delighted with an ex- 
citement purchased with so little labor, was only 
too glad to find her own taste confirmed by these 


MRS. GROSVENOR RAYMOND. 283 

rhapsodies. Nearly every night the two would 
be seen in Mrs. Haymond^s box at the theatre or 
opera house; often at a late hour going thence 
to some private entertainment. But bad as this 
was, it was not the full extent of the evil. Upon 
certain afternoons of the week there were mati- 
nees held' at the opera house, which were en- 
tirely approved of by Mrs. Morris, and which, 
during the previous winter, Blanche and Flora 
had attended in company with a teacher from 
their school. But at the same hours there were 
performances held at the theatre, which she 
would not upon any account have allowed her 
daughters to 'attend. This was principally be- 
cause of the bad character of a part of the audi- 
ence, whose presence would have been enough in 
itself to render the place objectionable. Under 
cover of the matinees, and her intimacy with 
Mrs. Raymond, Blanche had become quite a 
steady visitor at these performances. She would 
dress and go out, pleading an engagement with 
her friend ; and no further inquiry would be made 
as to how or where her time was passed. Some- 
times she would have a companion as thoughtless 
and simple as herself ; but such was her craving 


284 


FLORA MORRIS’ CMOICK 


for these vicious amusements that upon several 
occasions she even went alone. I do not know 
how she was enticed there in the first instance, 
but believe it was through the influence of a mor- 
bid curiosity to partake of what she knew to be a 
prohibited pleasure. Then conscience troubled 
her, and she felt uncomfortable all the afternoon ; 
but gradually the silent voice ceased to remon- 
strate, her uneasy feelings subsided, and she began 
to enjoy the excitement unrestrainedly. 

One evening, whilst sitting with Mrs. Ray- 
mond in her box at the opera house, she saw her 
French friend, Mr. La Farge, standing nearly 
opposite ) their eyes met, and he ' bowed pro- 
foundly. He had come in late and was looking 
for his seat, but, encouraged by the young lady’s 
evident pleasure at seeing him, he instantly turned 
and made his way towards her. 

Mrs. Raymond, who had been looking on, had 
barely time to inquire who the gentleman was, 
and receive the answer from Blanche, when he 
appeared at the door. He was a very handsome 
man, agreeable in manners and gentlemanly in 
appearance j and very soon Mrs. Raymond became 
almost as much fascinated with him as Blanche. 


MBS. GBOSVENOB RAYMOND. 285 

Any doubts which she might have had as to the 
propriety of allowing this freedom to a stranger 
had been dispelled upon his entrance, which was 
immediately followed by that of Mr. Whitney, an 
old and intimate friend, who appeared to be well 
acquainted with him, and introduced him to the 
lady as his friend. Yet, feeling her responsibility 
to Mr. Morris as the guardian of his daughter, and 
wishing to be perfectly satisfied before matters 
should progress any further, she took an early op- 
portunity to question Blanche upon the subject. 

^‘Mr. La Large is certainly a most agreeable 
man, Blanche,’’ she said, ^^but then, my dear, you 
know it does not do to judge from appearance; 
and these foreigners are so exceedingly uncertain 
that one cannot be too particular in inquiring 
about their references.” 

‘^Why, Mrs. Raymond!” exclaimed Blanche, 
opening her eyes to their fullest extent; ^‘you 
cannot certainly think there could be anything 
wrong about Mr. La Large! He is so very po- 
lite and gentlemanly.” 

I do not think there can be anything wrong 
about him,” replied Mrs. Raymond; only 
mentioned the fact that one had better be particu- 


286 


FLORA MORRIS’ OHOICF. 


lar; now by, way of commencement, where 
did you first meet him 

At Niagara,^’ Blanche answered very prompt- 
ly ; ‘‘and he was introduced by Mr. Bingham. 
We met him, too, at other places afterward, and 
he was a general favorite everywhere. Mamma 
liked him very much.” 

The last short sentence was delivered with 
marked emphasis, for Blanche very well under- 
stood its importance. 

This conversation proved very satisfactory to 
Mrs. Kaymond, who was not generally fastidious 
about credentials if the person who bore them 
pleased her fancy; but determining to be very 
particular in this instance on account of Blanche, 
she held a second consultation about Mr. La 
Farge. This time it was with Mr. Whitney, 
who happened to call upon her in the course 
of the day. In answer to her inquiries, Mr. 
Whitney said that he knew him through Fred 
Loring. Fred was well acquainted with him, he 
believed. He had met him very frequently in 
Paris, and had in fact returned to the United 
States in the same steamer with him. Of course 
he must be a gentleman, for Fred had introduced 


MRS. GROSVENOR RAYMOND. 


287 


him at their club-room, and the members all liked 
him exceedingly. 

Here Mrs. Raymond ended her researches, re- 
garding her purpose as accomplished, and giving 
herself great credit for having faithfully per- 
formed her duty as chaperone. Mr. Whitney did 
not inform her that Mr. Loring had first met 
Mr. La Large in Paris at a cafi^, and frequently 
afterwards at theatres and public gardens, or 
some other not very creditable place of amuse- 
ment. Perhaps he did not know this himself, 
and was therefore not to blame for withholding 
the truth ; but, however that may be, it remained 
untold, and Mrs. Raymond made no hesitation in 
inviting Mr. La Large to her own house, and in 
receiving the attentions which he was inclined to 
pay. Very soon he became the almost constant 
attendant of the ladies in public ; and before long, 
making himself acquainted with the stolen visits 
of Blanche to the afternoon theatricals, offered 
himself as her escort and was accepted. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


MISSING. 

NE morning, about six weeks after the first 
appearance of Mr. La Farge at the opera, 
Mr. and Mrs. William Morris were seated 
at the breakfast-table with their son Willie. 
Where is Blanche this morning?” in- 
quired her father. 

^^She spent yesterday with Mrs. Raymond,” 
replied Mrs. Morris, and they were to go some 
place in the evening, I forget exactly where; 
but I presume they. were detained until a late 
hour, and that Blanche concluded to return and 
pass the night with Mrs. Raymond, as she has 
frequently done before.” 

It seems to me,” Mr. Morris answered, that 
Blanche ought to have some duties at home to 
require the larger portion of her time ; but it is 
more than half of it spent with Mrs. Raymond — 
a lady for whom I have not the highest respect.” 


MISSING. 


289 


^'You certainly do not credit those absurd 
rumors about her returned Mrs. Morris, with 
a gesture of impatience. 

I very rarely place dependence upon ru- 
mors,^’ he replied, as I prefer to rely upon my 
own judgment of my neighbors’ characters ; and 
my opinion of the lady is founded upon what I 
have myself observed. To say the very best of 
her, she is an excessively gay and worldly-minded 
woman, and by no means a proper companion 
for one who is so young and inexperienced as 
Blanche.” 

Blanche is too verdant to know the difference 
between sense and nonsense,” interposed Willie; 

and she is the very one to be taken in by any 
one who will flatter her.” 

‘^Come, Willie,” said his mother, reprovingly, 
‘Sve do not require your assistance in this 
matter.” 

The entrance of the waiter put an end to the 
conversation, but not to Mrs. Morris’ reflections 
upon the subject. Her husband’s implied reproof 
and Willie’s careless, boyish remark had pierced 
deeper into her conscience than she would have 
cared to acknowledge. For the first time the in- 
19 


290 


FLORA MORRIS* CHOICE. 


timacy of Blanche with Mrs. Eaymond occa- 
sioned her uneasiness. There was no doubt that 
Mrs. Eaymond was excessively gay and a com- 
plete woman of the world; and although this was 
no great fault in her eyes, still she could scarcely 
regard such a character as a proper guide for 
Blanche. As a mother she did not see the ex- 
treme silliness of the young lady as you and I do, 
my young readers, but she could not help know- 
ing that she was rather deficient in intellectual 
strength; and she was quite ready to acknowledge 
openly that she was easily led. Under the in- 
fluence of these feelings, she was astonished now 
to think that she had ever been satisfied with this 
intimacy. She was not willing to admit that 
Mrs. Eaymond’s wealth and fashion, and sundry 
expensive presents bestowed upon Blanche, had 
closed her eyes to all else but selfish considera- 
tions; yet nevertheless this was the simple truth. 
Her reflections grew more and more uncomfort- 
able as the meal advanced ; but she endeavored to 
quiet them by resolving to drive around to Mrs. 
Eaymond’s immediately after breakfast and bring 
Blanche home with her, and endeavor to keep 
her there for the rest of the day. It would not 


MISSING. 


291 


be possible for her to end this acquaintance sud- 
denly, for that would offend Mrs. Raymond, but 
she would gradually break her away from it. 
The bitter accusations of conscience and a stern^ 
sense of responsibility on the one side, and the 
dread of displeasing Mrs. Raymond on the 
other, disturbed her exceedingly; and under the 
impatient impulse of the moment she actually 
congratulated herself that Flora, at least, was out 
of danger, and wished involuntarily that Blanche 
too was safe in Brighton. 

James, she said, turning to the waiter who 
was now removing the breakfast things, want 
you to go immediately to Knight’s and tell him 
to send me a carriage without any delay, as I 
have some early calls to make.” 

Mr. Morris looked up inquiringly from his 
paper. The plan of hiring a carriage — although 
not exactly in accordance with one’s ideas of 
strict economy — was recommended by the gentle- 
man himself, as far less expensive in the end than 
owning one; but at the same time he had advised 
that the livery stable should only be patronized 
upon very special occasions. And now the 
freedom with which his wife issued her orders 


292 


FLORA MORRm CHOICE. 


somewhat astonished him, and he wanted an 
explanation. 

am going to bring Blanche home,” she 
answered, and he was quite satisfied. 

The carriage was brought to the door in about 
a half hour, and found her ready and waiting for 
it. She directed the coachman to drive to Mrs. 
Baymond’s, but as they drew near to her shoe- 
maker’s, she suddenly remembered an errand 
there and desired him to stop. She had ordered 
two pairs of boots for Blanche, which ought to 
have been finished three or four days before; but 
as they had not been sent home, and as the shoe- 
maker was apt to disappoint, she concluded this 
would be a good opportunity to obtain them, if 
they should happen to be done, without further 
trouble. She alighted at the store door, entered, 
and delivered her message to the young girl in 
attendance. The girl was not quite certain 
whether the boots were finished, but would ascer- 
tain. For this purpose she looked over the con- 
tents of two different boxes, but without success. 

“I will inquire of Mr. Fontaine,” the girl said, 
and disappeared behind a screen at the further 
end of the apartment. 




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In a very few moments Mr. Fontaine appeared 
• — a short, wiry-looking individual, very French, 
very polite, and very affable. He assured madame 
that the boots had already been received by a 
member of her family. Madame was incredulous, 
and monsieur explained. Madame’s own daughter, 
Mademoiselle Blanche, had called on the previous 
morning in a carriage and received the boots. 
Mademoiselle had also been good enough to pur- 
chase several other pairs, not only for herself, but 
for her sister, who was absent, and whose foot hap- 
pened to be the same size as that of Miss Blanche. 
Monsieur must congratulate madame on having 
two daughters with such superbly-shaped feet. 
But madame was at that moment quite beyond 
the reach of flattery, her vanity being totally 
eclipsed by her consternation. Monsieur Fontaine 
must certainly be mistaken. Some designing perr 
son had imposed upon him and carried away the 
shoes. Monsieur could not be mistaken. Made- 
moiselle Blanche was too elegant to be compared 
with any one else. Then her foot — he could not 
possibly be mistaken in that ; and she had tried 
on several pairs of the shoes, to be sure that they 
would fit. 


294 


FLORA MORRIS* CHOICE. 


Several pairs gasped Mrs. Morris. 

Yes, for mademoiselle and her sister, who was 
absent at an academy. Monsieur would show 
madame the small account, and then she would, 
without doubt, be entirely satisfied. 

He brought forward his book, opened it, and 
turned to the right place. Mrs. Morris glanced over 
the page, but had the items been written down in 
Arabic they would have been quite as intelligble 
to her as they were in their present form. But 
Mr. Fontaine was obliging, and read them over 
very distinctly, notwithstanding his foreign accent; 
yet his tones reached her ear in a strange confu- 
sion of sounds that was perfectly meaningless. 
A singular sensation oppressed her — a doubt of 
her own identity; and desirous of arousing her- 
self from the horrible night-mare which seemed 
to be crushing her, she clenched her hands to- 
gether until the nails almost cut through her 
gloves and into the flesh. 

‘‘What is the matter with me?” she whispered 
assuringly to herself; “nothing has happened to 
occasion this dreadful foreboding. Blanche may 
have committed some piece of girlish extrava- 
gance in buying an extra pair of shoes, and that 


MISSING. 


i • 


295 


is the very worst that can have happened. At 
any rate, I must listen attentively to what this man 
has to say.” 

She raised her eyes and said with calm polite- 
ness, 

^^Will you excuse me, Mr. Fontaine, if I ask 
you to repeat these items?” 

Mr. Fontaine assured her that nothing in the 
world would aiford him greater pleasure. The 
young lady had done him the extreme honor to 
purchase two pairs of promenade boots of best 
material (which madame had ordered), two pairs 
of fine F rench cloth boots, two pairs of fancy satin 
(very elegant fijr evening wear), two pairs of fine 
kid slippers, and two pairs of satin slippers (white 
and pink), 

‘^How is it possible, Mr. Fontaine,” exclaimed 
Mrs. Morris, indignantly, ‘^that you could ever 
have given so many pairs of shoes to one person? 
You certainly must have known that there was 
something wrong.” 

As soon as the words had passed her lips she 
saw her indiscretion; but just at this time, when 
she was trying so hard to economize, the expense 
which her daughter’s freak had entailed upon her 


296 


FLORA MORRIS* CHOICE. 


caused her, for a moment, to forget everything 
else. 

Mr. Fontaine shrugged his shoulders. There 
were not so many shoes, as madame would per- 
ceive, if she would consider that they were in- 
tended for the use of two young ladies. Made- 
moiselle’s sister, who was a pupil at a grand 
seminary, would certainly require them at the 
soirees and fancy balls ; and he could not refuse 
to sell to Mademoiselle Morris. 

In the midst of her confusion and misery Mrs. 
Morris could scarcely refrain from smiling at the 
idea of Flora’s needing satin boots and shoes at 
the soirees of the Brighton Academy. But Mr. 
Fontaine went on in his deprecatory manner, try- 
ing to detach himself from all blame, by protest- 
ing that there could not possibly be anything 
wrong with such an exceedingly elegant young 
lady as Mademoiselle Blanche Morris. 

Mrs. Morris had now perfectly recovered her 
self-possession. 

“My daughter has been passing a day or two 
with an intimate friend,” she said, quietly, “and 
I have not seen her since yesterday morning. I 
have no doubt that she will be able to give a 




297 


satisfactory explanation of this little business 
matter.” 

Then bowing a dignified adieu to Mr. Fontaine, 
who opened the door for her, she left the store 
and entered the carriage, directing the coachman 
to drive now, with all possible speed, to Mrs. 
Raymond’s. 

Arrived at her devSti nation, she inquired of the 
servant who answered the bell whether Mrs. 
Raymond and Miss Blanche w^ere at home. Mrs. 
Raymond was, but not Miss Blanche. Presum- 
ing that Blanche must have left the house only to 
return to her own home, and waiting to hear 
nothing further, Mrs. Morris expressed a desire to 
see Mrs. Raymond. The lady sent for her visitor 
to go to her dressing-room, as she was preparing 
for a reception. 

“So, after all, I have missed Blanche,” ex- 
claimed Mrs. Morris, as soon as the first greetings 
were over. “It is extremely provoking to me, 
as I particularly wished to see her.” 

“Did you expect to find her here?” inquired 
Mrs. Raymond. 

“Certainly,” replied her friend, “when she 
silent yesterday and last night with you.” 


298 


FLORA MORRIS’ CHOICE. 


‘^Blanche has not been staying with me; I 
have not seen her for two days/^ Mrs. Raymond 
answered. 

‘^Then where can she be?’^ questioned Mrs. 
Morris. 

wish I could tell you, but I do not know 
myself.” 

Mrs. Raymond’s face wore a startled look as 
the fact flashed upon her mind that she had not 
only missed Blanche, but also her constant attend- 
ant, Mr. La Farge. 

^^It is very singular,” mused Mrs. Morris, 
anxiously. 

‘‘Very,” responded Mrs. Raymond. Then 
pitying the evident distress of the mother, she 
added, cheerfully: “Suppose you and I go and 
look after her. Who knows but we may afford 
food for a new romance? Not in our searchings 
for a father, but a daughter, which I am sure 
would prove far more interesting. And, first, let 
me ask, by way of commencement, did you drive 
here?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, then, allow me to dismiss your man, 
and we will take my own carriage, which will be 


MISSIJSTG. 


299 


here presently ; and then we can move as leisurely 
as we please.’^ ^ 

She pulled the bell without waiting to receive 
the permission. 

‘‘But the reception?’^ said Mrs. Morris, doubt- 
fully. 

“Oh, that is of no consequence. A mere every- 
day affair, where my presence will never be 
missed.^^ 

Here she paused to give her orders to the ser- 
vant who had answered her summons, entrusting 
him, in an aside, with the additional one of bring- 
ing up refreshments for her visitor, who looked as 
if she needed them. It is said that there is no 
human being living who is entirely destitute of 
good qualities, and Mrs. Raymond was no excep- 
tion to this general rule. She was really kind- 
hearted, and always ready to do her part towards 
relieving distress when it came in her way. 

Mrs. Morris at first resolutely refused to par- 
take of the refreshments which her kind hostess 
urged upon her; but after considerable persuasion, 
and a few encouraging words, she was prevailed 
upon to drink a glass of wine and eat part of a 
biscuit. She felt as if she could scarcely have 


800 


FLORA MORRIS* CHOICE. 


patience to wait for the carriage; and yet when it 
was announced she wondered in what direction 
she should tell the man to drive. Upon seeing 
her perplexity, Mrs. Raymond assumed the 
whole responsibility, and proved herself fully 
equal to the occasion. She had heard something 
of the alfair at the shoemaker’s from Mrs. Morris, 
and judging that the young lady might have 
made other purchases from stores where they 
were in the habit of dealing, she went immedi- 
ately to the milliner’s. Here, after a little man- 
agement to avoid exciting suspicion unnecessa- 
rily, they ascertained that two bonnets had been 
bought, and both taken away in the carriage. So 
it proved at other establishments. The purchases 
had been large, but all the articles had been 
carried away by the purchaser, and all placed to 
the account of her father. But not one clue 
could they find of her whereabouts, or the pur- 
pose which had impelled her to make these extra- 
ordinary additions to her wardrobe. Nor did 
Mrs. Raymond give the least hint of her suspi- 
cions to the already despairing mother, who now 
proposed, as a last resource, calling upon a few of 
her daughter’s most intimate friends. 


MISSING. 


301 


^‘Yery well,” replied Mrs. Eaymond; ‘‘but 
you must allow me to make the inquiries, while 
you remain in the carriage. One glance at your 
face would be sufficient to create suspicions which 
would be quite prejudicial to poor Blanche.” 

“ But I cannot help it, and if I could it would 
not mend the matter. • Everybody will hear of it 
by to-morrow,” pleaded the poor lady, who was 
now so completely unnerved as scarcely to have 
retained the slightest trace of her former self. 

“ But, after all, there may be no real cause for 
uneasiness about Blanche,” urged Mrs. Raymond ; 
“ and the poor girl may be made the victim of a 
thousand false and wicked rumors merely through 
our indiscretion.” 

Mrs. Morris listened to her reasoning, and was 
prevailed upon to keep quietly in the background 
while her friend acted for her. This she did with 
tact and judgment; but nothing was gained by it, 
for not one of Blanche's friends had seen her for 
the last two days. 

“ Now, I think, we had better drive to your 
own house, my dear Mrs. Morris,” said Mrs. 
Raymond ; “ for who knows but the truant may 
be found safe at home ?” 


302 


FLORA MORRIS* CHOICE, 


The suggestion was a fortunate one, for upcwi 
reaching her home Mrs. Morris found a note 
waiting for her, which had evidently been direct- 
ed by Blanche. With trembling fingers she 
opened the envelope, and read the few lines which 
conveyed to her the unwelcome intelligence that 
Blanche had been married on the previous morn- 
ing to Mr. La Farge. 

Mrs. Baymond^s efforts at consolation were of 
no avail now. We will not attempt to describe 
the anguish and bitter regret of the mother, to 
which the stern reproaches of the father added 
poignancy. Like many other men in similar cir- 
cumstances, Mr. Morris was inclined to throw the 
entire weight of the blame upon his wife’s shoul- 
ders. Her burden there was indeed heavy enough, 
but the responsibility was not hers alone. God 
had committed the guardianship of the child to 
the father as well as the mother; and the direc- 
tion, ^^Take this child, and bring it up for me,” 
was intended for him as well as for her. 

We will here leave the parents to their profound 
but unavailing regret, and return for a moment 
to their foolish daughter. Her note informed 
them that it was written in the cabin of a 


MISSING. 


303 


boat bound for Cuba, to which she had been 
taken immediately after the performance of the 
ceremony ; that she would return to the city 
with her husband in the course of two or three 
months; and that she sincerely hoped by that 
time her family would be ready to give him the 
w'elcome which he deserved. She did not expect 
to remain very long with them then, she said, as 
they would sail for Europe in the spring, and 
proceed immediately to Paris, where many of 
Mr. La Farge’s friends resided, and in whose 
neighborhood his father’s estates were situated. 

Mr. Morris ascertained that the couple had 
actually embarked for Cuba, after which there 
seemed to be nothing left for him to do but to 
wait patiently — the very hardest task that can be 
given to one whose feelings are constantly urging 
him to action. 



CHAPTER XIX. 


TBANKSGIVING AT BJtlGMTON. 

f /T was Thanksgiving Day at Brighton. The 
; coming in of the day had been heralded on 

? the previous evening by tlie celebration of 
one of the ‘‘donation parties” which Lucy 
had once attempted to describe to Flora. On 
this occasion it was for the benefit of a widow, 
who earned a living for herself and four small 
children by making coarse shirts for a store in 
Osburne. She was so busily employed with this 
work as to have but little time left to attend to the 
wants of her children, and knowing this, the girls 
had passed many leisure hours in preparing gar- 
ments for their use. They very often met, to- 
gether with other young people of the village, for 
this purpose, and some very delightful evenings 
were spent in a pleasant and profitable manner. 

When everything was ready for the party the 
widow was apprised of it, that she might be pre- 

304 


THANKSGIVINO- AT BRIGHTON. 


305 


pared to receive her friend and their gifts. It 
would be impossible to enumerate all the articles 
that were given. We will only say that her 
pantry, cellar, and wardrobe were abundantly 
supplied, and that several new pieces of furniture 
were added to her rooms. 

Our friend Flora found quite as much enjoy- 
ment in this party as she had ever found in the 
most brilliant assembly in the city. There was 
plenty of amusements and laughter, which was 
heartfelt without being boisterous. The Bible 
had now become a familiar book to Flora, and in 
looking upon the happy scene before her, she was 
reminded of the primitive times when God’s peo- 
ple were ^‘of one heart and soul; neither said 
any of them that aught of the things which he 
possessed was his own ; but they had all things in 
common.” And of Job, when he comforted him- 
self with the thought, “ I delivered the poor that 
cried, and the fatherless, and him that had none 
to help him. The blessing of him that was ready 
to perish canie upon me; and I caused the wid- 
ow’s heart to sing for joy.” 

But the evening had passed, with all its pleas- 
ures and privileges, never to be forgotten by 


806 


FLORA MORRIS’ CHOICE. 


either the widow or her friends, and a clear, 
bright sunshine ushered in the Thanksgiving 
morning. The Morris family arose early, so as 
to have the needful preparations for dinner made, 
as far as possible, before church-time. Flora was 
as busy as any one, and more than once she 
laughingly wondered to herself what Blanche 
would say if she could only see her running 
around in her large check apron. Then she 
would excuse her own peculiar fancy for house- 
work by the reflection that after all she could 
hardly be held responsible for the taste, as it was 
only an inheritance bequeathed by her ancestors. 

The village bells chimed at ten o’clock, calling 
to the Lord’s people, in tones that were strangely 
distinct, Enter into his gates with thanks- 
giving, and into his courts with praise ; be thank- 
ful unto him, and bless his name.” Once more 
the wide streets were thronged with happy wor- 
shipers, going up to the house of the Lord in 
answer to the welcome call. There was more 
than one family among them whose fresh mourn- 
ing garb gave indication of the loss of near and 
dear ones; yet there was true happiness even in 
the hearts of some of these mourners. The 


TRANKSGIVING AT BRIQSTON, 807 

Christian’s faith is wonderful in its power to sus- 
tain and comfort the afflicted, and they could say, 
‘^Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord 
Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God 
of all comfort, who comforteth us in our tribu- 
lations.” Ah !' it is not among the gay and 
thoughtless that we should look for the really 
happy and thankful ; laughter may proceed from 
the lips of the wretched, and the feet may be 
keeping time to merry music while the heart is 
filled with hatred and envy, and angry repinings 
against the allotments of Providence. 

Mr. Lambert preached a truly eloquent sermon 
from an appropriate text, and grateful hearts re- 
sponded to the thanks that he offered to the Lord. 
When the services were over the members of the 
congregation, as usual, exchanged greetings, in 
the course of which the Morrises considered 
themselves fortunate in being able to capture 
several unexpected guests from among a number 
who, they feared, might not be provided with a 
good Thanksgiving dinner at home. They had 
already invited three friends, so that the party 
who sat down to dine was very large; yet, as all 
were acquainted and congenial, there was not the 


308 


FLORA MORRIS* CHOICE. 


least formality, and the meal passed most pleas- 
antly. There was but one possible cause of re- 
gret — the absence of Pierrepont ; but as they knew 
that he had the prospect of spending a pleasant 
day with a family where he was a great favorite, 
they could not feel concerned about him. The 
Edmonds gave a little party in the evening, and 
our young friends, in anticipation of a delightful 
evening, grew quite hilarious. 

It was nearly dark, and the visitors had all 
departed, when the mail was brought in. There 
were papers of the previous morning, but no 
letters; yet, as Flora had not expected any, she 
was not disappointed. John lighted the lamp, 
and handed her the paper; but she refused it, 
saying that she did not care for the city news, and 
he opened it himself. Presently he called Flora 
to him, and directed her attention to a notice of 
the marriage of Blanche. It was only natural 
that Flora should be exceedingly astonished and 
distressed at this news. She knew that Mr. La 
Farge was not at all the sort of person whom her 
father would approve as a son-in-law; and if the 
affair had been rightly conducted, she would pre- 
viously have heard something of it. She men- 


THANKSGIVING AT BRIGHTON. 309 

tioned her uneasiness to her aunt and cousins, and 
they strove to comfort her by urging her to wait 
quietly until she should hear from home, when 
perhaps she would find that things were not quite 
so bad as she imagined. This was the only rea- 
sonable course fof her to pursue; and yet she 
found it very hard to keep calm and quiet while 
in such a state of uncertainty. She would very 
much luive preferred staying at home to fulfilling 
her engagement at Mr. Edmonds’; but through 
her aunt’s persuasions she went, and endeavored 
to preserve at least a cheerful appearance, although 
now thoroughly incapable of enjoying the society 
of even the most agreeable. 

The afternoon mail of the next day brought a 
few lines from her mother, containing a mere 
statement of the fact, and bearing evidence that, 
however deeply she might regret the afiair in her 
own heart, she wished to place it before her 
Brighton friends in its least objectionable light. 
It was quite plain that whatever effect this new 
trouble and mortification had had upon Mrs. 
Morris, it had not destroyed her pride. She 
would not have written at all, but waited in 
hopes of being able to communicate something 


310 


FLORA MORRIS^ CHOICE. 


favorable of Mr. La Farge, had it not been that 
she knew the paper would inform them of what 
they might naturally expect to hear first from her. 
The truth must come out, and if it should prove 
as disastrous in the end as her fears had led her 
to imagine, it would be better to break it gradu- 
ally. 

Notwithstanding the pains taken to conceal it, 
Flora knew that her mother must be greatly dis- 
tressed, and she would gladly have gone home to 
otfer her the comfort which she needed, but from 
the tenor of the note she perceived that this would 
not be agreeable. Once more her friends were 
obliged to advise patience, and once more she at- 
tempted to practice this hard duty. Letters came 
to her from home as usual ; but nothing definite 
was said of Blanche, and sometimes her name was 
entirely omitted. At last one day her cousin 
John handed her an envelope, post-marked 
‘^Havana,” which she opened eagerly. It was 
from Blanche, and was exceedingly characteristic 
of her, being full of silliness and affectation ; yet 
as there was no indication of unhappiness. Flora 
felt relieved of a portion of the burden which 
rested upon her. It contained a glowing, al- 


THANKSGIVINQ AT BRIGHTON. 


311 


though somewhat vague attempt at describing the 
various amusements of the place, and the luscious 
fruits which the climate so abundantly produced; 
and some very fulsome praises of Mr. La 
Farge, for the purpose of showing that she had 
still no notion of repenting of the choice she had 
made. There was also a queer, disjointed account 
of the officers on board of the United States gov- 
ernment vessel which was then stationed in the 
harbor. These gentlemen had paid her some very 
flattering attentions, which she evidently appre- 
ciated at more than their legitimate value. Not- 
withstanding her anxiety for Blanche, Flora could 
scarcely keep from smiling at the ridiculous as- 
sumption of superiority which pervaded her let- 
ter, and the pity which she said she could not 
help expressing for her poor, dear sister, who was 
so completely shut out from all pleasures in that 
dull prison called Brighton. 


CHAPTER XX. 


DEVBL OPMENTS. 



WILLIAM MORRIS, in the mean 
time, was busily employing all the time 
which he could spare from his business 
in endeavoring to gain the necessary in- 
formation concerning Mr. La Farge. 
In the course of his investigations he ascertained 
that Blanche had withdrawn five hundred dollars 
from a savings institution, where he had placed 
it with a similar sum for Flora. She had ex- 
perienced no difficulty in doing this, as the money 
had been deposited in her name and subject to her 
order. 

For the purpose of prosecuting his inquiries 
concerning Mr. La Farge, Mr. Morris first called 
upon Mr. Whitney, and was referred by that gen- 
tleman to his friend, Fred Loring, who would no 
doubt be able to tell him everything. Mr. Lo- 
ring had certainly met Mr. La Farge in Paris and 
312 


BE VEL OPMENTS. 


313 


had introduced him into society, but not as a son- 
in-law to any of his acquaintances. A man may 
be a very clever companion for a club or ball- 
room, who would not be considered a suitable 
person to marry one’s daughter. He might say 
that he knew little or nothing of Mr. La Farge, 
his family, or his prospects; but he had no doubt 
the thing would turn out well after all. 

Mr. Morris asked whether he could refer him to 
any person in Paris whose knowledge on the sub- 
ject was more extensive than his own. Mr. 
Loring thought he might, but was not quite cer- 
tain; and after a little reflection remembered to 
have met Mr. La Farge in the company of Mr. 
Giroux of Paris, and to have heard the latter 
gentleman allude to the family of the former. 
Mr. Giroux was an extremely gentlemanly fellow 
and a partner in a large banking-house, and Mr. 
Loring was ready to supply the address by which 
a letter would certainly reach him. 

The anxious father wrote immediately to the 
banker, and in due time a letter was received in 
answer. Mr. Giroux was excessively polite, and 
also excessively non-committal ; and the informa- 
tion gained was so trifling that Mr. Morris de- 


314 


FLORA MORRIS* CHOICE. 


termined to write to an attach^ of the American 
Embassy. He learned that Mr. La Farge was the 
son of a small grape-grower, and had an uncle 
who was a merchant in Paris. After his educa- 
tion was completed, a profession was proposed, 
but he could find none to suit him. Finally, the 
uncle agreed to try him as salesman in his large 
establishment. 

But he soon grew tired of the restraints of busi- 
ness, and spent more than half his time lounging 
in the various places of amusement which the gay 
city afforded. A sudden impulse seized the uncle. 
He had thought of sending an agent to the United 
States. La Farge had an agreeable address and 
spoke English correctly. His uncle told him that 
if he wa^aithful and true to the interests of the 
business, he would pay his expenses to the United 
States, and give him a profit upon all the sales he 
made. The promise was accepted, and the young 
man was duly despatched to the United States. 

Mr. Morris experienced little difficulty in tracing 
out the story. The young man very soon changed 
his mind as to his adaptation for the agency; and 
having heard that two or three of his countrymen 
had made fortunes by marrying heiresses, be con- 


DE VEL OPMENTS. 


315 


eluded to adopt a similar course. Mr. Whitney 
had alluded to a Miss Morris who was heiress to 
a very handsome fortune, and Mr. La Large had 
mistaken Blanche for the heiress. Here, then, was 
the prize, in the form of a young and pretty girl. 


CHAPTER XXL 


AN OIjD STOJRT—TnE JtESUJOT OF FOLET. 

50UT the same time that Blanche wrote 
to Flora she despatched a similar letter to 
her mother, to which was added a com- 
plaint that no answer had been returned 
to the note which she had written on 
board the steamer. This second epistle shared 
the fate of the first, in having no notice taken of 
it, and very soon it was followed by a third, bur- 
dened with a much deeper complaint of bad 
treatment. Then Mrs. Morris wrote, upbraiding 
the foolish girl with her indiscretion and disobe- 
dience, and informing her that, for the present, 
all communication between them must cease. 

But it is scarcely worth while to proceed with 
the story ; it was a very common one, and from the 
very beginning it required no prophet to predict 
the end. At the end of six months poor Blanche 
was a deserted wife among strangers. Upon find- 
316 



THE RESULT OF FOLLY. 


317 


ing that he could not obtain that wealth for which 
only he had married, Mr. La Farge started for 
Boston, where he took passage for Europe, selling 
his wife^s watch and jewelry to pay his expenses. 
He had sailed before she suspected his intention, 
leaving her alone in the hotel, with the debts 
which he had contracted. 

In her despair she addressed her mother once 
more, although much more humbly now, and 
begged to be allowed to return to that home 
which she had so carelessly abandoned. Her 
petition was heard. Her father went immediately 
to her relief, made arrangements to pay the debt 
to the proprietor of the hotel, and took her home 
with him. 

Upon their arrival they found Flora waiting 
to receive them, having left Brighton before the 
close of the school session for this very purpose. 
This was a real self-denial to her — a much greater 
one than some might imagine. While driving 
through the village she looked eagerly about her 
upon the prospect, so very beautiful in the fresh- 
ness of the spring-time, and her heart yearned 
towards it. Her residence in Brighton for the 
past months had been greatly blessed to her. She 


318 


FLORA MORRm CHOICE. 


had advanced much farther in her Christian 
course, her faith had been strengthened, and she 
would be much better fitted to endure the trials 
which would surely meet her in her own home. 

Ah ! what a contrast there was between these 
two sisters as they now met after the long absence ! 
A blight rested upon Blanche, from whose wither- 
ing influence it would be almost impossible for 
her to recover. In the very spring-time of life, 
the bloom of youth had been destroyed, and no 
human power could ever restore it. She has sown 
to the wind and must reap the whirlwind. 

Flora’s bright countenance was only clouded 
by the recollection of her sister’s misfortune. 
She had chosen the better part, which can never 
be taken away from her. Her sister’s sad expe- 
rience cannot be hers while she walks in humble 
reliance upon the care of her heavenly Father, 
who will uphold her with His right hand, and 
who will not suffer her feet to slide. As she is 
not perfect, she will no doubt find many difficulties 
in her way. There are the imperfections of her 
own heart, which heretofore she has allowed, and 
even encouraged, but which must now be subdued. 
Some of these the reader will recognize; but she 


THE RESULT OF FOLLY, 


319 


has other secret sins, which are known only to 
herself and her Creator. Then, too, she has the 
world and Satan, the great enemy of mankind; 
yet if she will take upon herself the whole armor 
of God, she need not fear the issue of the conflict, 
for she may be a conqueror, through Him who 
has loved her and given himself for her. 

Blanche complains bitterly of her past troubles 
and present mortification. Yet her sorrow has 
not so far been blessed to her. It is not that 
godly sorrow which worketh repentance to salva- 
tion, not to be repented of, inspiring with zeal the 
performance of duty and earnest endeavors after 
new obedience. Afflictions become blessings only 
when they are received humbly as the chastening 
of the Lord ; but when this is not done the evil 
is increased; ‘^the whole head is sick and the 
heart faint.” 

Mrs. Morris now exhibits rather less of that 
absurd pride which was so troublesome to herself, 
so unpleasant to her friends, and so ridiculous to 
others; but whether the feeling has really been 
subdued, or whether this is merely the natural 
efPect of the severe blow which it has received, 
remains to be proven. 


820 


FLORA MORRIS* CHOICE. 


Here we will leave the Morris family, my dear 
readers. 

This simple narrative will not have been writ- 
ten in vain if it shall be the means of impressing 
upon one single heart the command of the Lord : 
‘‘Be not conformed to this world; but be ye 
transformed by the renewing of your mind, that 
ye may prove what is that good and acceptable 
and perfect will of God.’’ 



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